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Your brave hearts are forged of hard
steel
and proven in turouience;
[but] what is this you have done
to my silver hoarness!
"Nor do I see any longer
the sway of my strong,
and wealthy,
and multimilitant
brother Yaroslav —
with his Chernigov boyars,
with his Moans, and Tatrans,
and Shelbirs, and Topchaks,
and Revugs,
and Olbers;
for they without bucklers,
with knives in the legs of their boots,
vanquish armies with war cries,
to the ringing of ancestral glory.
"But you said:
'Let us be heroes on our own,
let us by ourselves grasp the anterior
glory
and by ourselves share the posterior
one.'
Now is it so wonderful, brothers,
for an old man to grow young?
When a falcon has moulted,
he drives birds on high:
he does not allow any harm
to befall his nest;
but here is the trouble:
princes are of no help to me."
The Author apostrophizes
contemporaneous princes
Inside out have the times turned.
Now in Rim [people) scream
under Kuman sabers,
and Vlodimir [screams]
under wounding blows.
Woe and anguish to you, [Nfclodimir]
son of Gleb!
Great prince Vsevolod!
Do you not think of flying here from
afar
to safeguard the paternal golden
throne?
For you can with your oars
scatter in drops the Volga,
and with your helmets
scoop dry the Don.
If you were here,
a female slave would fetch
one nogata,
and a male slave,
one rezana;
for you can shoot on land live bolts —
[these are] the bold sons of Gleb!
You turbulent Rurik, and [you] David!
Wfere not your men's gilt helmets
afloat on blood? |