He lived a Poor Knight,
Silent and simple,
It looks gloomy and pale,
Spirit of daring and direct.
He had one vision,
Nepostižnoe mind,
And a deep impression
In the heart slammed him.
Traveling to Geneva,
On the road at the cross
He saw the Virgin Mary,
Mother of the Lord Christ.
Since then,, burned soul,
He did not look at women,
And to the grave with us one
Utter the words did not want to.
Since then, a steel lattice
He did not raise his face
And his neck beads
Instead scarf tied.
Innumerable pleas Father, nor the Son,
Neither the Holy Spirit vvek
Not happened paladin,
It was a strange man he is.
He spent the night intact
Before the face of the Blessed,
Letting her sorrowful eyes,
Quiet tears lya river.
Full of faith and love,
Faithful pious dream,
Ave, Mater Dei
blood
He wrote on the board.
Meanwhile, the Paladin
Vvstrechu trembling enemies
The plains of Palestine
rushed, naming give,
The light sky, holy Rosa!
Cried all the louder he,
And he drove his threat
Muslims from all sides.
Returning to his castle tour across,
He lived strictly concluded,
all love, all sad,
Without Communion he died;
Meanwhile, it has ended,
Evil spirit arrived,
Knight Soul sbiralsya
Bes haul much in its limit:
He de god prayed,
He does not Vedal-de Post,
Not putem de volochylsya
He mother of Christ.
But the most pure heart
Interceded for him
And let into the kingdom forever
paladin its.
