The bronze Horseman / Медный всадник. Книга для чтения на английском языке

Now the foursome

Get on their restless, chafing horses,

And leaving dust clouds in their wake,

Away along the Dnieper make…

They’re lost to sight, but Prince Vladimir

Stands gazing at the road and tries

To span the distance ever-dimming

As after them in thought he flies.

Ruslan, his mind and memory hazy,

Is mute, lost in a kind of trance;

Behind him, o’er his shoulder gazing,

The picture of young arrogance,

Farlaf rides, hand on hip, defiant.

Says he: “At last! The taste is sweet

Of freedom, friends… When will we meet —

The prospect likes me well – a giant?

Then will blood pour as passions seethe

And victims offer to the sabre.

Rejoice, my blade! Rejoice, my steed,

And lightly, freely prance and caper!”

The Khazar Khan, his pulses racing,

In saddle dances, for in thought

He is the fair young maid embracing

Whose love he has for so long sought.

The light of hope is in his eye,

Now does he make his stallion fly,

Now forces him, the good steed teasing,

To rear, now gallops him uphill,

Now lets him prance about at will.

Rogdai is silent; with increasing

Unease his heart fills; dark thoughts chill

And burden him; he is tormented

By jealousy, and, all calm gone,

With hate-glazed eye, like one demented,

Stares sullenly at Prince Ruslan.

Along a single road the rivals

Rode on all through the day until

From east poured shades that night’s arrival

Bespoke… The Dnieper, cold and still,

Is wrapt in folds of mist… The horses

Have need of rest… Not far away

A track lies that another crosses.

“’Tis time to part,” the riders say.

“Let us chance fate.” So ’tis decided;

Each horse is given now its head,

And, by the touch of spur unguided,

Starts off and moves where ’twill ahead.

What do you in the hush of desert

Alone, Ruslan? Sad is your plight.

Was’t all a dream – the bride you treasured,

The terrors of your wedding night?

Your helmet pushed down to your brow

Your strong hands limp, the reins let loose,

O’er woods and fields astride your steed

You ride, while faith and hope recede

And leave you well-nigh dead of spirit.

A cave shows ’fore the knight; he nears

And sees a light there. His feet lead

Him straight inside. The dark and broad

Vaults seem as old as nature.