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    Might it not become us,
    to begin in the diction of yore
    the stern tale
    5 of the campaign of Igor,
    Igor son of Svyatoslav?

    Let us, however,
    begin this song
    in keeping with the happenings
    10 of these times
    and not with the contriving of
    For he, vatic Boyan
    if he wished to make a laud for
    15 one,
    ranged in thought
    [like the nightingale] over the
    like the gray wolf
    across land;
    20 like the smoky eagle
    up to the clouds.

    For as he recalled, said he,
    the feuds of initial times,
    25 "He set ten falcons
    upon a flock of swans,
    and the one first overtaken,
    sang a song first"
    to Yaroslav of yore,
    30 and to brave Mstislav
    who slew Rededya
    before the Kasog troops,
    and to fair Roman
    son of Svyatoslav.
    35 To be sure, brothers,
    Boyan did not [really]
    set ten falcons
    upon a flock of swans:
    his own vatic fingers
    he laid on the live strings,
    40 which then twanged out by
    a paean to princes.

    So let us begin, brothers,
    45 this tale-
    from Vladimir of yore
    to nowadays Igor.
    who girded his mind
    with fortitude,
    50 and sharpened his heart
    with manliness;
    [thus] imbued with the spirit of
    he led his brave troops
    against the Kuman land
    in the name of the Russian land.

      Boyan apostrophized

    O Boyan, nightingale
    of the times of old!
    If you were to trill [your
    praise of]
    these troops,
    55 while hopping, nightingale,
    over the tree of thought;
    [if you were] flying in mind
    up to the clouds;
    [if] weaving paeans around these
    60 times,
    [you were] roving the Troyan
    across fields onto hills;
    then the song to be sung of
    that grandson of Oleg [, would
    "No storm has swept falcons
    wide fields;
    flocks of daws flee toward the
    70 Great
    or you might intone thus,
    vatic Boyan, grandson of Veles:
    "Steeds neigh beyond the Sula;
    glory rings in Kiev;
    trumpets blare in
    banners are raised in Putivl."

      Vsievolod's speech

    Igor waits for his dear brother

    And Wild Bull Vsevolod [arrives
    says to him:
    "My one brother, one bright
    75 you Igor!
    We both are Svyatoslav's sons.
    Saddle, brother, your swift
    As to mine, they are ready,
    saddled ahead, near Kursk;
    80 as to my Kurskers, they are
    swaddled under war-horns,
    nursed under helmets,
    85 fed from the point of the lance;
    to them the trails are familiar,
    to them the ravines are known,
    the bows they have are strung
    90 the quivers, unclosed,
    the sabers, sharpened;
    themselves, like gray wolves,
    they lope in the field,
    seeking for themselves honor,
    and for their prince glory."

      The Eclipse and Igor's speech

    Then Igor glanced up at the
    bright sun
    and saw that from it with
    95 his warriors were covered.
    And Igor says to his Guards:
    "Brothers and Guards!
    It is better indeed to be slain
    than to be enslaved;
    100 so let us mount, brothers,
    upon our swift steeds,
    and take a look at the blue

    A longing consumed the prince's
    105 mind,
    and the omen was screened from
    by the urge to taste
    of the Great Don:
    110 "For I wish," he said,
    "to break a lance
    on the limit of the Kuman field;
    with you, sons of Rus, I wish
    either to lay down my head
    or drink a helmetful of the

      Igor sets out; accumulation of omens

    Then Igor set foot
    in the golden stirrup
    and rode out in the Champaign.
    The sun blocks his way with
    115 darkness.
    Night, moaning ominously unto
    awakens the birds;
    the whistling of beasts
    120 [arises?];
    [stirring?] the daeva calls
    on the top of a tree,
    bids hearken the land unknown-
    the Volga,
    125 and the [Azov] Seaboard,
    and the Sula country,
    and Surozh,
    and Korsun,
    and you, idol of Tmutorokan!

    Meanwhile by untrodden roads
    130 the Kumans make for the Great
    [their] wagons screak in the
    middle of
    one might say -- dispersed swans.

      Igor rides on

    Igor leads Donward his warriors.
    His misfortunes already
    are forefelt by the birds in
    135 The wolves, in the ravines,
    conjure the storm.
    The erns with their squalling
    summon the beasts to the bones.
    The foxes yelp
    140 at the vermilion shields.
    O Russian land,
    you are already behind the

    Long does the night keep
    145 darkling.
    Dawn sheds its light.
    Mist has covered the fields.
    Stilled is the trilling of
    the jargon of jackdaws has
    150 woken.
    With their vermilion shields
    the sons of Rus have barred the
    seeking for themselves honor,
    and for their prince glory.

      The first engagement

    Early on Friday
    they trampled the pagan Kuman
    and fanned out like arrows
    155 over the field;
    they bore off fair Kuman maidens
    and, with them, gold,
    and brocades,
    and precious samites.
    160 By means of caparisons,
    and mantlets,
    and furred cloaks of leather
    they started making plankings
    to plank marshes
    165 and miry spots
    with all kinds of Kuman weaves.

    A vermilion standard,
    a white gonfalon,
    a vermilion penant of [dyed]
    170 horsehair
    and a silver hilt
    [went] to [Igor] son of

      Night, and dawn of Saturday

    In the field slumbers
    Oleg's brave aerie:
    far has it flown!
    Not born was it to be wronged
    175 either by falcon or hawk,
    or by you, black raven,
    pagan Kuman!
    Gzak runs like a gray wolf;
    Konchak lays out a track for him
    180 to the Great Don.

    On the next day very early
    bloody effulgences
    herald the light.
    Black clouds come from the sea:
    185 They want to cover
    the four suns,
    and in them throb blue
    There is to be great thunder,
    there is to come rain in [the
    190 guise of]
    from the Great Don.

      Saturday: the Kumans counter-attack

    Here lances shall break,
    here sabers shall blunt
    against Kuman helmets
    on the river Kayala by the Great
    195 Don.
    O Russian land,
    you are already behind the

    Now the winds, Stribog's
    200 grandsons,
    in [the guise of] arrows waft
    from the sea
    against the brave troops of
    205 The earth rumbles,
    the rivers run sludgily,
    dust covers the fields.
    The banners speak:
    "The Kumans are coming
    from the Don and from the sea
    210 and
    from all sides!"
    The Russian troops retreat.
    The Fiend's children bar the
    with their war cries;
    the brave sons of Rus bar it
    with their vermilion shields.

      Vsevolod in battle

    Fierce Bull Vsevolod!
    You stand your ground,
    you spurt arrows at warriors,
    you clang on helmets
    215 with swords of steel.
    Wherever the Bull bounds,
    darting light from his golden
    there lie pagan Kuman heads:
    220 cleft with tempered sabers
    are [their] Avar helmets-
    by you, Fierce Bull Vsevolod!

    What wound, brothers,
    can matter to one
    225 who has forgotten
    honors and life,
    and the town of Chernigov --
    golden throne of his fathers --
    and of his dear beloved,
    230 Gleb's fair daughter,
    the wonts and ways!

      Recollections of Oleg's feuds

    There have been the ages of
    gone are the years of Yaroslav;
    there have been the campaigns of
    235 Oleg son of Svyatoslav.
    That Oleg forged feuds with the
    and sowed the land with arrows.
    He sets foot in the golden
    240 stirrup
    in the town of Tmutorokan:
    a similar clinking
    had been hearkened
    by the great Yaroslav of long
    245 and Vladimir son of Vsevolod
    every morn [that he heard it]
    stopped his ears in Chernigov.

    As to Boris son of Vyacheslav,
    250 vainglory brought him to
    and on the Kanin [river]
    spread out a green pall,
    for the offense against Oleg,
    the brave young prince.
    And from that Kayala
    255 Svyatopolk had his father
    cradled between Hungarian pacers
    to St. Sophia in Kiev.
    Then, under Oleg, child of
    sown were and sprouted discords;

    perished the livelihood
    of Dazhbog's grandson
    265 among princely feuds;
    human ages dwindled.
    Then, across the Russian land,
    seldom did plowmen shout
    to their horses]
    270 but often did ravens croak
    as they divided among themselves
    while jackdaws announced in
    own jargon
    that they were about to fly to
    the feed.
    Thus it was in those combats
    and in those campaigns,
    but such a battle
    had never been heard of.

      Termination of battle

    From early morn to eve,
    and from eve to dawn,
    tempered arrows fly,
    sabers resound against helmets,
    275 steel lances crack.
    In the field unknown, midst the
    Kuman land,
    the black sod under hooves
    was sown with bones
    and irrigated with gore.
    280 As grief they came up
    throughout the Russian land.

    What dins unto me,
    what rings unto me?
    Early today, before the
    285 effulgences,
    Igor turns back his troops:
    he is anxious about his dear
    They fought one day;
    290 they fought another;
    on the third, toward noon,
    Igor's banners fell.

      Defeat and Lamentations

    Here the brothers parted
    on the bank of the swift Kayala.
    Here was a want of blood-wine;
    here the brave sons of Rus
    295 finished the feast-
    got their in-laws drunk,
    and themselves lay down
    In defense of the Russian land.

    The grass droops with
    300 condolements
    and the tree with sorrow
    bends to the ground.
    For now, brothers, a cheerless
    tide has
    set in;
    305 now the wild has covered the
    Wrong has risen among the forces
    of Dazhbog's grandson;
    in the guise of a maiden
    [Wrong] has stepped into
    310 Troyan's
    she clapped her swan wings
    on the blue sea by the Don,
    [and] clapping, decreased rich
    The strife of the princes
    against the pagans
    has come to an end,
    for brother says to brother:
    320 "This is mine,
    and that is mine too,"
    and the princes have begun to
    of what is small:
    "This is big,"
    while against their own selves
    325 they forge discord,
    [and] while from all sides with
    the pagans enter the Russian

    330 O, far has the falcon gone,
    to the sea!
    But Igor's brave troops
    335 cannot be brought back to life.
    In their wake the Keener has
    and Lamentation has overrun the
    Russian land,
    shaking the embers in the
    340 inglehorn.
    The Russian women
    have started to weep, repeating
    "Henceforth our dear husbands
    cannot be thought of by [our]
    345 thinking,
    nor mused about by [our] musing,
    nor beheld with [our] eyes;
    as to gold and silver
    none at all shall we touch!"
    And, brothers, Kiev groaned in
    and so did Chernigov in
    anguish spread flowing
    over the Russian land;
    abundant woe made its way
    midst the Russian land,
    while the princes forged discord

    against their own selves,
    [and] while the pagans, with
    prowling over the Russian land,
    took tribute of one vair
    from every homestead.

      Victories of Svyatoslav III recalled

    All because the two brave sons
    Igor and Vsevolod,
    stirred up the virulence
    355 that had been all but curbed
    by their senior,
    dread Svyatoslav, the Great
    [Prince] of
    [who kept the Kumans] in dread.

    He beat down [the Kumans] With
    360 his
    mighty troops
    and steel swords;
    invaded the Kuman land;
    leveled underfoot
    365 hills and ravines;
    muddied rivers and lakes;
    drained torrents and marshes;
    and the pagan Kobyaka,
    out of the Bight of the Sea,
    from among the great iron Kuman
    370 he plucked like a tornado,
    and Kobyaka dropped in the town
    in the guard-room of Svyatoslav!

      Igor blamed

    Now the Germans,
    and the Venetians,
    now the Greeks,
    and the Moravians
    375 sing glory
    to Svyatoslavm,
    but chide
    Prince Igor,
    for he let abundance sink
    380 to the bottom of the Kayala,
    [and] filled up Kuman rivers
    with Russian gold.

    Now Igor the prince
    has switched
    385 from a saddle of gold
    to a thrall's saddle.
    Pined away
    have the ramparts of towns,
    and merriment
    390 has dropped.

      Svyatoslav's dream

    And Svyatoslav saw a troubled
    in Kiev upon the hills:
    "This night, from eventide,
    they dressed me, "he said, "with
    395 a black
    on a bedstead of yew.
    They ladled out for me
    blue wine mixed with bane. From
    400 the empty quivers
    of pagan tulks
    they rolled great pearls
    onto my breast,
    and caressed me.
    405 Already the traves
    lacked the master-girder
    in my gold-crested tower!

    All night, from eventide,
    demon ravens croaked.
    410 On the outskirts of Plesensk
    there was a logging sleigh,
    and it was carried to the blue

      The Boyars explain their sovereign's dream

    And the boyars said to the
    "Already, Prince, grief has
    the mind;
    for indeed two falcons
    415 have flown off the golden
    in quest of the town of
    Tmutorokan --
    or at least to drink a helmetful
    420 of the
    Already the falcons' winglets
    have been clipped
    by the pagans' sabers,
    and the birds themselves
    425 entangled in iron meshes."

    Indeed, dark it was
    on the third day [of battle]:
    two suns were murked,
    430 both crimson pillars
    were extinguished,
    and with them both young moons,
    Oleg and Svyatoslav,
    were veiled with darkness
    and sank in the sea.
    "On the river Kayala
    darkness has covered the light.
    Over the Russian land
    the Kumans have spread,
    like a brood of pards,
    440 and great turbulence
    imparted to the Hin.

    "Already disgrace
    has come down upon glory.
    445 Already thralldom
    has crashed down upon freedom.
    Already the daeva
    has swooped down upon the land.
    And lo! Gothic fair maids
    450 have burst into song
    on the shore of the blue sea:
    chinking Russian gold,
    they sing demon times;
    they lilt vengeance for
    and already we, [your] Guards,
    after mirth."

      Svyatoslav's speech

    Then the great Svyatoslav
    let fall a golden word
    mingled with tears,
    and he said:
    455 "O my juniors, Igor and
    Early did you begin
    to worry with swords the Kuman
    460 and seek personal glory;
    but not honorably you triumphed
    for not honorably you shed
    pagan blood.
    Your brave hearts are forged of
    465 steel
    and proven in turbulence;
    [but] what is this you have done
    to my silver hoarness!

    "Nor do I see any longer
    470 the sway of my strong,
    and wealthy,
    and multimilitant
    brother Yaroslav
    with his Chernigov boyars,
    475 with his Moguts, and Tatrans,
    and Shelbirs, and Topchaks,
    and Revugs, and Olbers;
    for they without bucklers,
    with knives in the legs of their
    480 vanquish armies with war cries,
    to the ringing of ancestral

    "But you said:
    Let us be heroes on our own,
    let us by ourselves grasp the
    485 anterior
    and by ourselves share the
    490 one.
    Now is it so wonderful,
    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 prnces

    Inside out have the times
    Now in Rim [people] scream
    under Kuman sabers,
    495 and Volodimir [screams]
    under wounding blows.
    Woe and anguish to you,
    son of Gleb!

    Great prince Vsevolod!
    Do you not think of flying here
    500 afar
    to safeguard the paternal golden
    For you can with your oars
    scatter in drops the Volga,
    505 and with your helmets
    scoop dry the Don.
    If you were here,
    a female slave would fetch
    one nogata,
    510 and a male slave,
    one rezana;
    for you can shoot on land live
    [these are] the bold sons of
    515 You turbulent Rurik, and [you]
    Were not your men's gilt helmets
    afloat on blood?
    Do not your brave knights roar
    520 like
    wounded by tempered sabers
    in the field unknown?
    Set your feet, my lords,
    in your stirrups of gold
    to avenge the wrong of our time,
    525 the Russian land,
    and the wounds of Igor,
    turbulent son of Svyatoslav.

    Eight-minded Yaroslav of Galich!
    You sit high on your gold-forged
    530 you have braced the Hungarian
    with your iron troops;
    you have barred the [Hungarian]
    535 path;
    you have closed the Danube's
    hurling weighty missiles over
    the clouds,
    540 spreading your courts to the
    Your thunders range
    over lands;
    you open Kiev's gates;
    from the paternal golden throne
    you shoot at sultans
    545 beyond the lands.
    Shoot [your arrows], lord,
    at Konchak, the pagan slave,
    to avenge the Russian land,
    and the wounds of Igor,
    550 turbulent son of Svyatoslav!

    And you, turbulent Roman, and
    A brave thought
    555 carries your minds to deeds.
    On high you soar to deeds
    in your turbulence,
    like the falcon
    that rides the winds
    as he strives in turbulence
    560 to overcome the bird.
    For you have iron breastplates
    under Latin helmets;
    these have made the earth
    and many nations-
    565 Hins, Lithuanians, Yatvangians,
    Dermners, and Kumans-
    have dropped their spears
    and bowed their heads
    beneath those steel swords.

    570 But already, [O] Prince Igor,
    the sunlight has dimmed,
    and, not goodly, the tree sheds
    575 Along the Ros and the Sula
    the towns have been distributed;
    and Igor's brave troops
    cannot be brought back to life!
    The Don, Prince, calls you,
    580 and summons the princes to
    The brave princes, descendants
    have hastened to fight.
    585 Ingvar and Vsevolod,
    and all three sons of Mstislav,
    six-winged [hawks?] of no mean
    Not by victorious sorts
    did you grasp your patrimonies.
    590 Where, then, are your golden
    and Polish spears, and shields?
    Bar the gates of the prairie
    with your sharp arrows
    to avenge the Russian land
    and the wounds of Igor,
    turbulent son of Svyatoslav.

    No longer indeed does the Sula
    in silvery streams
    for [the defense of] the town of
    and the Dvina, too,
    flows marsh-like
    for the erstwhile dreaded
    townsmen of Polotsk
    to the war cries of pagans.

      Izyaslav recalled

    Alone Izyaslav son of Vasilko
    made his sharp swords ring
    against Lithuanian helmets-
    [only] to cut down the glory
    595 of his grandsire Vseslav,
    and himself he was cut down
    by Lithuanian swords
    under [his] vermilion shields,
    [and fell] on the gory grass
    600 [as if?] with a beloved one upon
    a bed

    And [Boyan] said:
    "Your Guards, Prince,
    birds have hooded with their
    605 wings
    and beasts have licked up their
    Neither your brother Bryachislav
    nor your other one Vsevolod was
    610 thus all alone
    you let your pearly soul drop
    out of your brave body
    through your golden gorget.

      Conclusion of Apostrophe

    are the voices;
    has merriment;
    615 [only?] blare
    the town trumpets.

    Yaroslav, and all the
    descendants of
    The time has come
    620 to lower your banners,
    to sheathe your dented swords.
    For you have already departed
    from the ancestral glory;
    for with your feuds
    625 you started to draw the pagans
    onto the Russian land,
    onto the livelihood
    of Vseslav.
    Indeed, because of those
    630 quarrels
    violence came
    from the Kuman land.

      Vseslav's fate recalled

    In the seventh age of Troyan,
    Vseslav cast lots
    for the damsel he wooed.
    By subterfuge,
    635 propping himself upon mounted
    he vaulted toward the town of
    and touched with the staff [of
    his lance]
    the Kievan golden throne.
    Like a fierce beast
    he leapt away from them [the
    at midnight,
    645 out of Belgorod,
    having enveloped himself
    in a blue mist.
    Then at morn,
    he drove in his battle axes,
    650 opened the gates of Novgorod,
    shattered the glory of Yaroslav,
    [and] loped like a wolf
    to the Nemiga from Dudutki.

    On the Nemiga the spread sheaves
    655 are heads,
    the flails that thresh
    are of steel,
    lives are laid out on the
    threshing floor,
    souls are winnowed from bodies.
    Nemiga's gory banks are not
    660 sowed
    sown with the bones of Russia's

    665 Vseslav the prince judged men;
    as prince, he ruled towns;
    but at night he prowled
    in the guise of a wolf.
    From Kiev, prowling, he reached,
    670 before the cocks [crew],
    The path of Great Hors,
    as a wolf, prowling, he crossed.
    For him in Polotsk
    675 they rang for matins early
    at St. Sophia the bells;
    but he heard the ringing in
    Although, indeed, he had
    680 a vatic soul in a doughty body,
    he often suffered calamities.
    Of him vatic Boyan
    once said, with sense, in the
    685 "Neither the guileful nor the
    neither bird [nor bard],
    can escape God's judgment."
    Alas! The Russian land shall
    recalling her first years
    and first princes!
    690 Vladimir of yore, he,
    could not be nailed to the
    Kievan hills.
    Now some of his banners
    have gone to Rurik and others to
    but their plumes wave in

    Lances hum on the Dunay.
    The voice of Yaroslav's daughter
    like a cuckoo, [unto the field?]

    early she calls.

      Yaroslavna's incantation

    "I will fly, like a cuckoo," she
    "down the Dunay.
    I will dip my beaver sleeve
    695 in the river Kayala.
    I will wipe the bleeding wounds
    on the prince's hardy body."
    Yaroslav's daughter early weeps,
    in Putivl on the rampart,
    "Wind, Great Wind!
    Why, lord, blow perversely?
    Why carry those Hinish dartlets
    on your light winglets
    705 against my husband's warriors?
    Are you not satisfied
    to blow on high, up to the
    rocking the ships upon the blue
    710 sea?
    Why, lord, have you dispersed
    my gladness all over the feather
    Yaroslav's daughter early weeps,
    in Putivl on the rampart,
    715 repeating:

    "O Dnepr, famed one!
    You have pierced stone hills
    through the Kuman land.
    720 You have lolled upon you
    Svyatoslav's galleys
    as far as Kobyaka's camp.
    Loll up to me, lord, my husband
    that I may not send my tears
    seaward thus early."
    725 Yaroslav's daughter early weeps,

    in Putivl on the rampart,

    730 "Bright and thrice-bright Sun!
    To all you are warm and comely;
    Why spread, lord, your scorching
    on [my] husband's warriors;
    [why] in the waterless field
    parch their bows
    with thirst,
    close their quivers
    with anguish?"

      Igor's escape

    The sea plashed at midnight;
    waterspouts advance in mists;
    God [?] points out to Igor
    the way from the Kuman land
    735 to the Russian land,
    to the paternal golden throne.

    The evening glow has faded:
    Igor sleeps;
    Igor keeps vigil;
    740 Igor in thought measures the
    from the Great Don
    to the Little Donets;
    [bringing] a horse at midnight,
    745 Ovlur whistled beyond the river:
    he bids Igor heed
    Igor is not to be [held in
    [Ovlur] called,
    750 the earth rumbled,
    the grass swished,
    the Kuman tents stirred.
    Meanwhile, like an ermine,
    Igor has sped to the reeds,
    755 and [settled] upon the water
    like a white duck.
    He leaped upon the swift steed,
    and sprang off it,
    [and ran on,] like a demon wolf,
    and sped to the meadowland of
    760 the
    and, like a falcon,
    flew up to the mists,
    killing geese
    765 and swans,
    for lunch,
    and for dinner,
    and for supper.

    And even as Igor, like a falcon,
    770 Vlur, like a wolf, sped,
    shaking off by his passage the
    for both had worn out
    775 their swift steeds.
    Says the Donets:
    "Prince Igor!
    Not small is your magnification,
    and Konchak's detestation,
    and the Russian land's
    780 gladness."

    Igor says:
    "O Donets!
    Not small is your magnification:
    785 you it was who lolled
    a prince on [your] waves;
    who carpeted for him
    with green grass
    your silver banks;
    790 who clothed him
    with warm mists
    under the shelter of the green
    who had him guarded
    795 by the golden-eye on the water,
    the gulls on the currents,
    the [crested] black ducks on the
    800 Not like that," says [Igor],
    "is the river Stugna:
    endowed with a meager stream,
    having fed [therefore]
    on alien rills and runners,
    she rent between bushes
    a youth, prince Rostislav,
    imprisoning him.
    805 On the Dnepr's dark bank
    Rostislav's mother weeps the
    Pined away have the flowers with
    and the tree has been bent to
    810 the
    ground with sorrow."

    No chattering magpies are these:

    on Igor's trail
    Gzak and Konchak come riding.
    815 Then the ravens did not caw,
    the grackles were still, the
    [real] magpies did not chatter;
    only the woodpeckers, in the
    820 climbing,
    with taps marked [for Igor] the
    way to
    the river.
    The nightingales
    825 with gay songs
    announce the dawn.

    Says Gzak to Konchak:
    "Since the falcon to his nest is
    830 flying,
    let us shoot dead the falcon's
    with our gilded arrows."
    Says Konchak to Gza [sic]:
    "Since the falcon to his nest is
    why, let us entoil the falconet
    by means of a fair maiden."
    And says Gzak to Konchak:
    "if we entoil him
    by means of a fair maiden,
    neither the falconet,
    nor the fair maiden,
    shall we have,
    while the birds will start
    to beat us
    in the Kuman field."

      Igor's return

    Said Boyan, song-maker
    of the times of old,
    [of the campaigns] of the kogans
    835 Svyatoslav, Yaroslav, Oleg:
    "Hard as it is for the head
    to be without shoulders
    bad it is for the body
    to be without head," --
    840 for the Russian land
    to be without Igor.

    The sun shines in the sky:
    Prince Igor is on Russian soil.
    Maidens sing on the Danube;
    845 [their?] voices weave
    across the sea
    to Kiev.
    Igor rides up the Borichev
    850 to the Blessed Virgin of the
    countries rejoice,
    cities are merry.


    After singing a song
    to the old princes
    one must then sing to the young:

    Glory to Igor son of Svyatoslav;
    855 to Wild Bull Vsevolod;
    to Vladimir son of Igor!
    Hail, princes and knights
    fighting for the Christians
    against the pagan troops!
    860 To the princes glory, and to the