Final duel

His murderer coolly
Has guided blow… save isnt present:
Empty heart fights exactly,
In a hand the pistol hasnt trembled.
Also what for a miracle?… From apart,
Similar to hundreds fugitives,
On catching of happiness and ranks
It is thrown to us at will of fate;
Laughing, he defiantly despised
The earths anothers language and customs;
He couldnt spare our glory;
Couldnt understand during this instant bloody,
On what he lifted a hand!.