Вот оригинал:

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds u
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old,
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with laughing comrades
They sit no more at familiar tables of
They have no lot in our labour of the day-
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain

Уже существует перевод этого стихотворения, Юлии Дурягиной:

Там торжественно бьют барабаны,
Там на всем черной смерти вуаль.
Песни горя, печали и скорби
Улетают в прозрачную даль.

Среди серого пепла и праха
Эта музыка жизни слышна.
Слезы гордости павшим героям
Пеленой застилают глаза.

Они шли с песней в бой молодые
Юных сил и отваги полны,
Каждый с сотней сразиться готовый,
Но погибли они без вины.

Мы запомним их всех молодыми —
Над ушедшими время не властно.
Вы солдатами были простыми,
По вам Родина плачет безгласно.