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Vsevolod in battle
Fierce Bull Vsevolod!
You stand your ground,
you spurt arrows at warriors,
you clang on helmets
with sword of steel.
Wherever the Bull bounds,
darting light from his golden helmet,
there lie pagan Kuman heads:
cleft with tempered sabers
are [their] Avar helmets —
by you, Fierce Bull Vsevolod!
What wound, brothers,
can matter to one
who has forgotten
honors and life,
and the town of Chernigov —
golden throne of his fathers —
and of his dear beloved,
Gleb's fair daughter,
the wonts and ways!
Recollections of Oleg's feuds
There have been the ages of Troyan;
gone are the years of Yaroslav;
there have been the campaigns of Oleg,
Oleg son of Svyatoslav.
That Oleg forged feuds with the sword,
and sowed the land with arrows.
He set foots in the golden stirrup
in the town of Tmutorokan:
a similar clinking
had been hearkened
by the great Yaroslav of long ago;
and Vladimir son of Vsevolod
every morn [that he heard it]
stopped his ears in Chernigov.
As to Boris son of Vyachcslav,
vainglory brought him to judgment
and on the Kanin [river]
spread out a green pall,
for the offence against Oleg,
the brave young prince.
Recollections of Oleg's
feuds (continued)
And from that Kayala
Svyatopolk had his father conveyed
— cradled between Hungarian pacers
[tandemwise] — to St. Sophia in Kiev.
Then, under Oleg, child of Malglory,
sown were and sprouted discords;
perished the livelihood
of Dazhbog's grandson
among princely feuds;
human ages dwindled. |