from a brave body
fun faded,
trumpets trumpet Gorodensky!
Yaroslav all grandchildren and Vseslav!
Already lower your banners,
sheathe your damaged swords,
for we have lost the glory of our grandfathers.
With their sedition
you started to make filthy
to the Russian land,
to the property of Vseslav.
Because of the strife, after all, violence has gone
from the Polovtsian land!
On the seventh century Trojan
Vseslav threw a lot
about a girl he loves.
Cunning leaned on horses
and jumped to the city of Kyiv,
and touched the shaft
golden throne of Kyiv.
Bounced off them like a fierce beast
at midnight from Belgorod,
embraced by a blue mist, got luck:
in three attempts opened the gates of Novgorod,
smashed the glory of Yaroslav,
jumped like a wolf
to Nemiga from Dudutok.
And Nemiga sheaves lay from the heads,
thresh with damask flails,
they lay life on the current,
blow the soul from the body.
Nemiga bloody shores
were not sown with good,
sown with the bones of Russian sons.
Vseslav-Prince ruled the court for people,
lined the princes of the city,
and he himself roamed like a wolf at night:
from Kyiv to the roosters to Tmutorokan,
to the great Hors, he roamed the path like a wolf.
They called him in Polotsk early in the morning
at St. Sophia in the bells,
and he heard that ringing in Kyiv.
Although he had a prophetic soul in a brave body,
but often suffered from misfortune.
To him the prophetic Boyan
a long time ago, the refrain, reasonable, said:
"Not cunning
nor skillful,
nor a skillful bird
the judgment of God cannot be avoided!"
Oh, moan the Russian land,
remembering
the first times and the first princes!
That old Vladimir
it was impossible to nail the mountains of Kyiv;
and now the Rurikov banners have risen,
and others - Davydovs,
but apart their banners flutter.
an unknown cuckoo cuckoos early:
"I'll fly," he says, "like a cuckoo on the Danube,
I will soak a silk sleeve in the Kayala River,
morning to the prince his bloody wounds
on his mighty body."
Yaroslavna cries early
"O wind, wind!
Why, sir, are you moving forward?
Why are you rushing Khin's arrows
on their light wings
on my dear warriors?
Is it not enough for you to blow under the clouds,
cherishing ships on the blue sea?
Why, sir, did you dispel my joy on the feather-grass?"
Yaroslavna cries early
in Putivl-city on a visor, saying:
"Oh Dnepr Slovutich!
You broke through the stone mountains through the Polovtsian land.
You cherished Svyatoslav's plantations on yourself
to the camp of Kobyakov.
Pour, sir, my dear to me,
so that I do not send tears to him
at sea early!
Yaroslavna cries early
in Putivl on a visor, saying:
"Bright and thrice bright sun!
You are all warm and beautiful:
why, lord, did you stretch out your hot rays
on the warriors of my kind?
In the waterless field, thirst twisted their bows,
sorrow shut up their quivers?"
The sea burst at midnight;
tornadoes are coming in clouds.
God shows the way to Prince Igor
from the Polovtsian land
to the Russian land, to the father's golden table.
Dawns went out in the evening.
Igor is sleeping
Igor is watching
Igor measures the field with thought
from the great Don to the small Donets.
Ovlur whistled a horse across the river at midnight;
tells the prince to understand: not to be Igor in captivity.
Clicked
the earth hit
rustled grass,
the Polovtsian towers moved.
And Prince Igor galloped
ermine to the reed
and white gogol on the water.
Jumped on a greyhound horse
and jumped off him like a gray wolf.
And ran to the bend of the Donets,
and flew like a falcon under the clouds,
beating geese and swans
for breakfast
When Igor flew like a falcon,
then Ovlur ran like a wolf,
shaking off the icy dew:
Both of them tore their greyhound horses.
Donets says:
"O Prince Igor!
A lot of greatness for you, and dislike for Konchak,
and joy to the Russian land!"
Igor says:
"O Donets! You have a lot of greatness,
who cherished the prince on the waves,
who spread green grass for him
on their silver shores,
dressed him in warm mists
under the shade of a green tree;
you guarded him with a gogol on the water,
seagulls on streams,
Chernyadi on the winds. "
Not like that, he says, the river Stugna:
having a meager stream,
swallowing other people's streams and streams,
extended towards the mouth
concluded the youth of Prince Rostislav.
On the dark bank of the Dnieper
Rostislav's mother is crying
after the young prince Rostislav.
The flowers are despondent from pity,
and the tree with anguish bowed down to the earth.
It was not the magpies that chirped -
Igor's trail is followed by Gzak and Konchak.
Then the crows did not play,
the jackdaws fell silent,
magpies did not chirp,
only snakes crawled.
Woodpeckers knock the way to the river,
yes nightingales with cheerful songs
dawn is announced.
Gzak says to Konchak:
"If the falcon flies to the nest,
shoot the falcon
with their gilded arrows."
Konchak says to Gzak:
"If the falcon flies to the nest,
Then we will entangle the falcon
red girl."
And Gzak said to Konchak:
"If we entangle him with a red maiden,
we will have neither a falcon nor a red maiden,
and the birds will beat us
in the Polovtsian field.
Boyan and Khodyna said
Svyatoslav songwriters
old time Yaroslav,
and Oleg the Prince's favorites:
"It's hard for a head without shoulders,
trouble for a body without a head" -
and the Russian land without Igor.
The sun shines in the sky,
and Igor is a prince in the Russian land.
Igor rides along Borichev
to the Holy Mother of God Pirogoshcha.
The villages are happy, the cities are cheerful.
Singing a song to the old princes,
then sing to the young:
"Glory to Igor Svyatoslavich,
Bui tour Vsevolod,
Vladimir Igorevich!
Hello, princes and squad,
Fighting for Christians
against the invasions of the filthy!
Glory to the princes and the squad!
Oh, to moan to the Russian land, remembering the old time and the old princes! That old Vladimir could not be nailed to the mountains of Kyiv. Now his banners have become Rurikovs, and others are Davydovs, but apart they blow, disagreeing spears sing.
Yaroslavna cries on the wall in Putivl in the morning, lamenting: “O wind, sail! Why, sir, are you blowing so hard! Why are you rushing enemy arrows on your light wings against the warriors of my kind? Or is it not enough for you to winnow high under the clouds, cherishing ships on the blue sea! Why, sir, did you dispel my joy on the feather grass?
Early in the morning Yaroslavna cries on the wall of Putivl-city, lamenting: “O Dnieper Slovutich! You broke through the stone mountains through the Polovtsian land. You cherished on yourself Svyatoslav's canoes to the regiment of Kobyakov. Pour, lord, my fret to me, so that I do not send tears to him at sea early!
Yaroslavna weeps early on the wall in Putivl, lamenting: “The bright and crackling sun! You are all red and warm. Why, sir, did you spread your hot rays on the soldiers' frets? In the steppe, waterless thirst bent their bows, longing closed their quivers?
The sea foamed at midnight; tornadoes go in fogs. God shows the way to Prince Igor from the Polovtsian land to the Russian land, to the golden table of his father. Dawns went out in the evening. Igor sleeps, Igor does not sleep, Igor measures the steppe with his thought from the great Don to the small Donets. At midnight Ovlur whistled his horse across the river; Tells the prince not to doze off. Clicked; the earth thumped, the grass rustled, the Polovtsian hedgehogs moved. And Prince Igor galloped like an ermine to the reeds, fell like a white gogol into the water. He rushed to the greyhound horse and jumped off him like a gray wolf. And he ran to the meadow of the Donets, and flew like a falcon under the fogs, beating geese and swans for dinner, and afternoon tea, and supper. When Igor flew like a falcon, then Ovlur ran like a wolf, shaking the icy dew with him; they tore their greyhound horses.
Donets said: “Prince Igor! Not enough glory for you, but dislike for Konchak, and joy for the Russian land! Igor said: “Oh Donets! Not a little glory to you that you cherished the prince on the waves, spread green grass for him on your silver shores, dressed him with warm fogs under the shade of a green tree, guarded him with gogol on the water, gulls on the waves, ducks on the winds. Not like that, he said, the river Stugna; having a shallow stream, she swallowed other people's streams and streams, drowned the youth of Prince Rostislav in a whirlpool near the dark shore. The mother of Rostislavov is crying for the young prince Rostislav. The flowers were despondent from pity, and the trees bowed to the ground in grief.
It wasn’t magpies chirping - Gzak and Konchak were following Igor’s trail. Then the crows did not crow, the jackdaws fell silent, the magpies did not chirp, only snakes crawled. Woodpeckers knock the way to the river, nightingales broadcast dawn with cheerful songs. Gzak says to Konchak: "If the falcon flies to the nest, we will shoot the falcon with our gilded arrows." Konchak said to Gze: “If the falcon flies to the nest, and we will entangle the falcon with a red maiden.” And Gzak said to Konchak: “If we entangle him with a red maiden, we will have neither a falcon nor a red maiden, but birds will start beating us in the Polovtsian steppe.”
Boyan, the songwriter of the old times, said to Yaroslavov and Olegov: “It is hard for a head without shoulders, trouble for a body without a head.” So is the Russian land without Igor. The sun is shining in the sky - Prince Igor in the Russian land. Girls sing on the Danube, voices wind across the sea to Kyiv. Igor is driving along Borichev to the Holy Mother of God Pirogoshcha. Countries are happy, cities are cheerful.
Having sung glory to the old princes, and then we will praise the young. Glory to Igor Svyatoslavich, buoy-tour Vsevolod, Vladimir Igorevich! May the princes and the squad be healthy, fighting for Christians against filthy regiments. Glory to the princes and the squad! Amen.
Poetic translation by V. A. Zhukovsky
A word about Igor's regiment
Would it not be fitting for us, brethren,Start with an ancient warehouseThe sad tale of Igor's battles,Igor Svyatoslavich!Start this songAccording to the epics of this time,And not the fictions of the Boyanovs. Prophetic Boyan, If someone wanted to create a song,Spreading thought along the tree,Gray wolf on the groundGray eagle under the clouds.Do you remember how they sang about the battles of the first times:Then ten falcons set off on a herd of swans;Whose falcon flew, he sang the first song:Whether to old Yaroslav, whether to brave Mstislav,Who slew Rededya in front of the regiments of the Kassogians,Red Roman Svyatoslavich.Boyan, brethren, did not let ten falcons into a herd of swans,He put his prophetic fingers on living strings,And they themselves rumbled glory to the princes.Let us begin, brethren, this storyFrom the old Vladimir to the present Igor.He pulled his mind with a fortress,He sharpened his heart with courage,Filled with spiritAnd brought his brave regimentsTo the Polovtsian land for the Russian land.Then Igor gazed at the bright sun,He saw his howls, covered with darkness from him,And rivers Igor to his squad:"Brothers and squad!It's better for us to be chopped down than to be given in full.Let's sit down, friend, on greyhound horsesLet's see the blue Don."The hunt fell on the prince's mind,A sign interceded his desireTaste the Great Don.“I want,” he said, “to break the spearThe end of the Polovtsian field is with you, Russian people!I want to lay my headOr drink Don's helmet."O Boyan, nightingale of the old days!How would you sing these battles,Jumping like a nightingale along the mental tree,Taking off the mind under the clouds,Weaving all the glory of this time,Ryshcha Troyanova's path through the fields to the mountains!You would have to say a song to Igor, that Oleg's grandson!Not a storm of falcons brought across the wide fields -Jackdaws run in herds to the Great Don!You should sing, prophetic Boyan, grandson of Veles!Horses neigh for Sula,Glory rings in KyivTrumpets blow in Novegrad,There are banners in Putivl,Igor is waiting for his dear brother Vsevolod.And rivers to him buoy-tour Vsevolod:"One brother for me, one bright light you, Igor!We are both Svyatoslavichs!Saddle, brother, your greyhound horses,And mine are ready for youSaddled before Kursk.And my chickens are peppy sweepers,twisted under the pipes,Nursed under the helmets,fed by the end of the spear,They know all the waysThey know the ravinesTheir bows are stretched The tools are open, the Sabers are released, They themselves jump like gray wolves in the field,Seeking honor for himself, and glory to the prince.Then Prince Igor stepped into the golden stirrupAnd drove across the open field.The sun blocked his path with darkness;Night, thundering against him, awakened the birds;Roar in herds of beasts;The div is calling at the top of the tree,Commands to listen to the unknown land,Volga, Pomorie, and Posulia,And Surozh, and Korsun,And you, the idol of Tmutorokansky!And the Polovtsians ran on unprepared roads to the Great Don:Carts scream at midnight like swans are loose.Igor leads the warriors to the Don.Already the trouble of his birds is calling,And the wolves howl like a threat in the ravines,The eagles on the bones of animals call klektom,Foxes breshut on scarlet shields ....O Russian land! You are over the mountains Far! The night is fading Light-dawn sunk down,The fog covered the fieldThe nightingale's tickle fell asleep,Galicic conversation has subsidedThe Russians fenced the great field with scarlet shields,Seeking honor for himself, and glory to the prince.On Friday at dawn they trampled the wicked Polovtsian regimentsAnd, scattering arrows across the field, they rushed the red Polovtsian maidens,And with them, and gold, and curtains, and other oxamites;Orthms, epanchitsy, and furs, and various Polovtsian patternsBridges began to be built over swamps and muddy places.A scarlet banner with a white banner,And a scarlet bang with a silver shaftBrave Svyatoslavich!Dozing in the field Oleg's brave nest -It flew far!It was not born on offenseNeither a falcon nor a gyrfalcon,Not for you, black raven, unfaithful Polovtsian!Gzak runs like a gray wolf,
Reconstruction and translation by D. Likhachev
Old Church Slavonic text
On the Danube, Yaroslavny hears a voice,
it’s too early to spit out a zegzitseyu:
“I will fly, - speech, - zegzitse along Dunaev,
I will wet my bebryan sleeve in the Kayal River,
morning to the prince of his bloody wounds
on his cruel body."
Opera Prince Igor. Lament of Yaroslavna (listen)
Yaroslavna is crying early
in Putivl (on the visor), arcuchi:
“Oh, the wind, the wind!
What, sir, are you forcibly weighing?
Why are Khinov's arrows moaning
(on his easy wings)
in my own way howl?
You never know how grief beats under the clouds of wind,
cherishing ships on the blue sea?
What, lord, is my joy
unleashed by feather grass?
Yaroslavna cry too early
I will put the city on the fence, archers:
“About the Dnieper Slovutitsa!
You broke through the stone mountains
through the Polovtsian land.
You cherished Svyatoslav's noses on yourself
to the cry of Kobyakov.
Cheer up, lord, my love for me,
but would not send tears to him
at sea early.
Yaroslavna is crying early
in Putivl on a visor, arches:
“Bright and crackling sun!
Be warm and red to everyone:
why, sir, stretch out your hot beam
ok voi?
In the field of abyss I long for harnessing rays,
tight them tuli zatche?
Translation
Lament of Yaroslavna - listen to audio
Yaroslavna cries early
"O wind, wind!
Why, sir, are you moving forward?
Why are you rushing Khin's arrows
on their light wings
on my dear warriors?
Is it not enough for you to blow under the clouds,
cherishing ships on the blue sea?
Why, sir, did you dispel my joy on the feather grass?
Yaroslavna cries early
in Putivl-city on a visor, saying:
“Oh Dnepr Slovutich!
You broke through the stone mountains through the Polovtsian land.
You cherished Svyatoslav's plantations on yourself
to the camp of Kobyakov.
Pour, sir, my dear to me,
so that I do not send tears to him
at sea early!
Yaroslavna cries early
in Putivl on a visor, saying:
“Bright and thrice bright sun!
You are all warm and beautiful:
why, lord, did you stretch out your hot rays
on the warriors of my kind?
In the waterless field, thirst twisted their bows,
grief shut up their quivers?
Crying Yaroslavna begins a new part of the "Word", which follows the "golden word of the Great Svyatoslav", addressed to the Russian princes. In this regard, it can be noted that Igor's wife, like the wife of Vsevolod's buoy tour, is named not by her first name, but by her patronymic. This is important, since their fathers, strong princes, for family reasons, should, at the call of the Great Svyatoslav, come to the aid of the Olgovichi and "avenge Igor's wounds."
Yaroslavna's lament consists of an introduction about a zegzitsu and a three-part appeal to the wind, the Dnieper Slavutich and the sun. Let's take a look at the introduction.
On the Danube, Yaroslavnyn hears a voice, it’s too early to spit out a zegzitse.
“I will fly,” I say, “zegzitseyu along the Dunaev,
I will soak the bebryan sleeves in Kayal; r;c;,
morning to the prince of his bloody wounds on the cruelty; m his body; l;. (168 - 171)
DANUBE
The Danube was mentioned above (see "The girls sing on the Danube ..."). Usually this place is understood as follows: on the Seima River, which flows near the walls of Putivl, the voice of Yaroslavna is heard. At the same time, it is assumed that any river, including the Seim, can be called the Danube. That is why it is said: "Yaroslavna's voice is heard on the Danube." This is the official point of view (Likhachev).
However, in our opinion, this phrase can be interpreted differently:
Two previous times the Danube was named in connection with Yaroslav Osmosmysl, Yaroslavna's father. The connection between these two fragments is emphasized by the fact that each of them precedes an appeal to Rurik and Davyd. Considering the Danube in this passage as the same Danube as before, we understand this place literally: on the Danube (the princess’s homeland, in the Galician principality), Yaroslav’s voice is heard (the father hears his daughter crying for her husband) ...
However, in the last fragment with the Danube "The girls sing on the Danube ...", it may mean a specific place on the Danube, which is worth looking for near the place of residence of the "Gothic maidens".
One way or another, Yaroslavna begins her mental flight from the Danube and along the Danube.
It seems that in the lament of Yaroslavna, several distant geographical points are named and connected to each other - the Danube, Kayala, Putivl and the Dnieper Slavutich.
The request to the Russian river Dnieper Slavutich to “cherish” its harmony with it is a request for help to Kyiv, i.e. to Svyatoslav and Rurik. Danube (at the mouth) - according to the "Word", the land controlled by Yaroslav Osmosmysl, Yaroslavna's father. Therefore, the mention of the Danube is an appeal to the father: “Shoot, sir, Konchak, the filthy koshchei, for the Russian land, for the wounds of Igor, the bully Svyatoslavlich!”. Putivl is a city on the border of the Novgorod-Seversky principality (Yaroslavna is located here), Kayala is the place of Igor's defeat and captivity.
"I WILL FLY ZEGZITSEIA ALONG THE DUNAEV"
About the zegzitsu and its “unknowability” was mentioned above (see “the zegzitsu is unknown early on”). Regarding the mental flight of Yaroslavna, we note that it is mirrored by Igor's mental flight in a light sleep:
“Extinguishing the dawn in the evening. Igor sleeps, Igor watches, Igor thinks of the field m; rit from the Great Don to the Malago Donets.
As in many fragments before, starting with Boyan's Thought Tree, Yaroslavna and Igor form a pair: she flies like a bird, and he runs like a wolf (unnamed in this episode, but implied as the wolf from the second Thought Tree fragment). True, they do not run together, but towards each other.
KAYALA
The river Kayala, where the battle took place, has not been identified. It is believed that its name is derived from the verb "kayat". The author himself seems to contribute to this:
“There n; Mtsi and Veneditsy, that Greeks and Moravians sing the glory of Svyatoslav, the cabin of Prince Igor, even plunge fat into the days; Kayaly…”
From considerations of symmetry, we understand that the word "kayut" means a concept opposite to "singing of glory", i.e. denigrate, condemn, reproach.
And yet, perhaps, deriving the name of the river from the word "kayat", we confuse the cause with the effect. Indeed, the author plays on the consonance of the name of the river with the word "kayat", but it does not follow from this that the river is named after the verb "kayat". After all, in the annals she is called Kayala. It would make sense to look for the name of the river in the Polovtsian dialect. Although, on the other hand, it may be that a small unknown river was named by the Russians after a sad event that occurred on its banks. (Another "bad" river in the text - the Stugna - resembles a "cold" (cold springs?) The text says about it that it has a "bad stream", i.e. including a cold one. Plus the sad events that happened on it and the young prince who drowned in it.)
The prelude about the Zegzitsu and the Danube is followed by three equal parts of Yaroslavna's address to the wind, the Dnieper and the sun:
“Oh, w;tr; in;trilo! What, sir, forcibly in; eat?
Why are you mooing Khinov's lines on your easy krilltsyu in my frets howl?
You never know how many mountains are; under the clouds in; yati, lel; yuch ships on blue; sea;?
What, sir, is my joy on the feather-grass; I? (172 - 176)
Yaroslavna is too early to cry Putivl to the city on the fence;, arcuchi:
“Oh, the Dnieper Slovutitsa! You broke through the stone mountains through; Polovtsian land.
You lay; yal, take it upon yourself; Svyatoslavl nosadas to Kobyakov's plaku.
He got angry; y, lord, my fret to me; but I would not send tears to him at sea early.
(177 – 180)
Yaroslavna weeps early in Putivl; took away;, arcuchi:
“Holy; rotten and crack; rotten sun! Sun; mb warm and red thou art!
Why, sir, stretch your hot beam in the right way; howl? In the floor; anhydrous; I long for the rays of the harness, the tightness of the tuli is tighter. (181 - 183)
LEFT - RIGHT - LEFT
The appeal to the wind and the sun are similar - Yaroslavna reproaches them for the fact that in that battle they took the side of the Polovtsy. These appeals begin the same way: “Yaroslavna cries early in Putivl; took it;, arcuchi. Unlike these two appeals, the appeal to the Dnieper Slavutich is qualitatively different from them: Yaroslavna reminds him of the help to the Russian soldiers in 1184 and asks him to bring his beloved home. As if emphasizing the special importance of the middle address, the call to the Dnieper Slavutich begins a little differently: “Yaroslavna is too early to cry Putivl to the city on the fence;, archery.”
Turning to the wind and the sun, Yaroslavna looks towards the Polovtsian steppe, while turning to the Dnieper, Yaroslavna looks towards Kyiv and asks for his support (just as the mention of the Danube is an appeal to Yaroslav Osmosmysl for help). Thus, Yaroslavna stretches her arms in different directions, as I.G. Blinov correctly depicted in miniatures for his 1912 handwritten book.
IN PUTIVLE ON THE VISOR
Putivl is the specific city of Vladimir Igorevich, the stepson of Yaroslavna. By the way, as a result of the defeat of the Russians on Kayala, Putivl was besieged by the Polovtsy, but not taken.
A visor is a fortified city wall. As such, being a border, it is filled with the characteristic of the Russian traditional culture the sacred meaning of any border. In this case, Putivl's visor, in addition to the usual meaning of the border-boundary, literally turned into the border "friends - foes." Given this, perhaps Yaroslavna, turning to the wind and the sun, looked to where the battle took place or Igor was captured, i.e. towards the Polovtsian land. Accordingly, turning to the Dnieper, she looked towards the Russians - Putivl and Kyiv. (Maybe this means “Putivl is crying for the city”?)
At one time, Nabokov sarcastically remarked that Yaroslavna had no tears for her stepson. However, this is not quite true. Vladimir, one of the four princes-suns, participants in the campaign, is indirectly, among others, called in an appeal to the sun:
Bright and bright sun = 1 + 3 = Igor + (Vsevolod + Svyatoslav + Vladimir)
WHEN DID YAROSLAVNA CRY?
In her appeal to the wind and the sun, Yaroslavna speaks not of Igor, but of his warriors who died because of the hostility of these elements towards them. While in an appeal to the Dnieper Slavutich, she asks to bring her beloved to her. From this we can conclude that Yaroslavna already knew about the defeat of the Russians in the battle, but she also knew that her husband was alive and in captivity.
By the way, the Polovtsy separated the captive princes and separated them into four camps. Then they appointed a large ransom for the captured princes. At the same time, for the senior prince, Igor Svyatoslavich, the ransom was huge and, in addition, the condition was set that he should be redeemed last.
Yaroslavna's lament had an effect:
“I’ll sprinkle the sea of midnight, the smorts go in darkness. Igor to Prince God shows the way from the Polovtsian land to the Russian land, to the golden table. (184)
Yaroslavna cries early
"O wind, wind!
Why, sir, are you moving forward?
Why are you rushing Khin's arrows
On their light wings
On the warriors of my dear?
Was it not enough for you to blow under the clouds,
Cherishing ships on the blue sea?
Why, sir, my fun
Did you scatter on the feather grass?
Yaroslavna cries early
In Putivl-city on a visor, saying:
“Oh Dnepr Slovutich!
You broke through the stone mountains
Through the Polovtsian land.
You cherished Svyatoslav's plantations on yourself
To the camp of Kobyakov.
Pour, sir, my dear to me,
So that I don’t send tears to him at sea early.
Yaroslavna cries early
In Putivl on a visor, saying:
“Bright and thrice bright sun!
You are all warm and beautiful:
Why, lord, did you stretch out your hot rays
On warriors of my kind?
In the waterless field, thirst twisted their bows,
Were they shut up their quivers with grief?
Translation by Vasily Andreevich Zhukovsky
The voice of Yaroslavna is heard, at dawn she calls out with a lonely tap dance.
“I will fly, he says, like a cuckoo along the Danube,
I will dip my beaver sleeve in the Kayala River,
I will wipe the prince's bloody wounds on his hardened body."
Yaroslavna cries on the wall in Putivl in the morning, saying:
"O wind, you are the wind!
Why are you blowing so hard?
On what do you apply the arrows of the Khan
With their light wings
On the warriors of my frets?
Are there not enough subcloudy mountains for your wind?
Are there few ships on the blue sea for your cherishing?
Why, like feather-grass, have you dispelled my joy?"
Yaroslavna is crying in the morning in Putivl on the wall, singing:
"Oh you, Dnieper, you, Dnieper, you, glory-river!
You broke through the mountains of stone
Through the Polovtsian land;
You, cherishing, carried the courts of Svyatoslav to the army of Kobyakova:
Stick to me you fret my,
So that I don’t send tears to him in the morning at the dawn of tears at sea!
Yaroslavna cries in the morning in Putivl on the city wall, singing in clover:
"You are bright, you are the brightest sun!
You are warm for everyone, you are red for everyone!
Why did you stretch your hot beam on the warriors of my fret,
That in the waterless steppe their bows were squeezed by thirst
And sharpened sadness for them?"
The transcription was written in 1817 - 1819.
Translation by Konstantin Dmitrievich Balmont (1867-1942)
Is it a whistle of copies or a song? What is the song over the Danube?
Yaroslavnin's voice is heard. Like an unknown cuckoo
He calls early: “I’ll fly, they say, I’m like a cuckoo along the Danube,
I will dip my beaver sleeve in the fast river Kayala,
Wounds I will morning on the prince, blood will morning on a strong body.
Yaroslavna cries early on the city wall in Putivl,
He calls to the wind: “Wind, sail, why are you forcibly blowing?
Why are you, oh lord, on your easy wings
You throw Khan's arrows at the fighters, where is he, my Lado?
Was it not enough to winnow in the heights and fly under the clouds,
Arriving, rock-cherish the ships on the blue sea?
Why did you dispel everything with feather grasses?”
“Glorious Dnieper, you broke through the mountains through the lands of that Polovtsian,
You, rushing into the camp of Kobyakov, cherished the Svyatoslav courts,
Cherish, oh lord, my rush you Lada,
So that in the morning I would not send tears to him at sea early.
Yaroslavna cries early on the wall of the city in Putivl:
“The sun is bright, the light is the sun, you are warm and red for everyone,
Why, sir, are you striving your hot beam
To the troops, where is he, my Lado? Why in a waterless field
Do you dry your bows and close your quivers with them?”
Translation by N. Zabolotsky
Over the wide bank of the Danube,
Above the great Galician land
Weeping, flying from Putivl.
Yaroslavna's voice is young;
"I will turn, poor, cuckoo,
I will fly along the Danube river
And a sleeve with a beaver edge,
Leaning down, I will dip in Kayala.
The fogs will fly away,
Prince Igor will open his eyes,
And I will morning the bloody wounds,
Leaning over the mighty body."
Only the dawn will take in the morning,
Yaroslavna, full of sorrow,
Like a cuckoo, it calls to Yura:
"What are you, Wind, angrily sing,
That you swirl the fogs by the river,
You raise Polovtsian arrows,
Throwing them at the Russian regiments?
What do you dislike in the open
Fly high under the cloud
Ships to cherish in the blue sea,
Waves sway behind the stern?
You, sowing enemy arrows,
You only breathe death from on high.
Oh why, why my fun
Have you dispelled forever in feather grasses?"
At dawn in Putivl lamenting,
Like a cuckoo in early spring
Yaroslavna calls young,
On the wall sobbing urban:
"My glorious Dnieper! Stone mountains
In the lands of the Polovtsian you broke through,
Svyatoslav into the far reaches
Before the regiments Kobyakov wore.
Cherish the prince, lord,
Save on the far side
So that I forget my tears from now on,
May he come back to me alive!"
Far away in Putivl, on the visor,
Only the dawn will take in the morning,
Yaroslavna, full of sorrow,
Like a cuckoo, it calls to Yura:
"The sun is thrice bright! With you
Everyone is welcome and warm.
Why are you the army of the prince remote
Burnt with hot rays?
And why are you waterless in the desert
Under the blow of the formidable Polovtsy
Thirst pulled the marching bow,
The quiver overflowed with grief?
1938-1946
Victor Sosnora
Sun-joy over Putivl
but the light is weak.
city fence,
before dawn the colors of chintz:
I will fly down the Danube
homeless zegzitse.
Early, early
I'll wet my beaver sleeve,
I will open the prince's wounds,
Over Putivl the wind is cold
carries the smell of a stuffy battle.
Lada is crying:
Oh Sail,
Why are you hostile?
about Wind-Sail,
kind and generous
flying on air wings
to the Russian squad?
Are you not enough
homeless,
clouds kick in the south,
little on the icy sea
cradle ships with a wave?
It is not enough to pull out crops,
poke fur
forest animal?
Why is my fun
on feather grass
Sun-joy over Putivl
but the light is weak.
city fence,
Lada Yaroslavna is crying
lada cries,
groaning,
The weak sun threatens:
I will fly to you, the sun,
homeless zegzitse.
Why in a waterless field
throwing to the ground
soaked in sweaty salt
Are you the squad of your husband-prince?
Why tight bows
you to them, the sun,
shook,
jarred them t at goy
reed quivers?
Clouds are red over Putivl,
lada Yaroslavna cries:
O mighty Dnepr Slavutich!
You split the mountains-stones,
Svyatoslav onuchi
with Kobyakov boots
you pushed...
Oh lord!
Give me a husband tomorrow.
covered in mud,
big-eyed.
(1969)
Evgeny Yevtushenko
Yaroslavna is crying in Putivl
alone on the fortress wall
about all those who fell long ago, recently,
both about you and about me.
He calls like a widow, pokes like a seagull:
"Danubian daughter I will fly,
sleeve with beaver trim
I will dip in the river Kayala.
I will not fall in flight to the ground,
going down to her husband,
and on the beloved body of the prince
I will gently squeeze the blood with my wings.
Yaroslavna is crying in Putivl
crying like in a dream
with the glory of the fallen and ingloriously,
but on one war for all.
"Oh, mister sail, wind,
why are you running backwards?
You better wipe my tears
and arrows do not hit point-blank.
You would come, the wind, into the mind,
filling the ship's sail.
Why my love and joy
did you scatter on the feather grass?"
Yaroslavna is crying in Putivl
one on the fortress wall:
"You, Dnepr Slovutich, wayward,
made his way through the mountain.
You cherished seagulls on yourself
and Svyatoslav boats.
Save your loved one by pumping
him under the sail of love."
Yaroslavna is crying in Putivl
one on the fortress wall:
"Oh, sun, you are not equal to anyone.
Warm everyone in the world who is alone.