They who are radiant with health,
Love and joy and peace,
Feel their blood run cold
And their souls to be fretted with woe.
Where but now was spread a banquet, there stands a coffin:
Where but now rose mad cries of revelry,
There resounds the bitter wailing of mourners;
And over all keeps Death his watch,—
Watches us one and all,—the mighty Tsar
Within whose hands are lodged the destinies of a world;