From behind the islands, out to the current main
Upon the broad, rolling river waves—
There rush forth the painted
Sharp-prowed river crafts all brave
On the lead boat stands Stefan Razin,
Embracing his Persian Princess—
A wedding procession, a new occasion
He is merry, and he is drunk no less
And the Princess, with downcast big eyes,
Half-dead most with great horror
Listens timidly to the drunken fighter
Wild words he speaks in face to her
…….\"I shall spare axsectly nothing!
I would give my very head!\"—
The cry rings out across the surrounding...
Shores all sands and green islands.
\"Look at that, brothers! Our Fugleman
Has traded us in for a wench paired shell
He spent but one night with this maidan
By the morning, he’s become a woman himself...
He’s lost his wits...\" The drunken Fugleman
Hears the mockery and whispers—
And he clutches the captive Persian maiden’s
Full tender figure even tighter;
With anger, blood roughly rushes
To the Ataman’s dark brown eyes;
His black brows loom liked ashes
His face a gathering storm at once
\"Oh, my dear nurse, my only sustainer—
Volga, Mother River tremendous!
You have never yet seen gifts deserving
From a Don Cossack courageous!
So that there be no shame for ever
Before my brave independent men,
Before this decuman free-flowing river—
Here, my nurse... take this present!”
With a mighty heave, he lifts
The captive Princess high no shame
And—without a glance—he cast her
Into the surging, rushing waves...
\"Why have you fallen silent, you lionhearted!
Hey there, Vanka, dance, you devil!
Strike up a chorus, lads—sing solem
A funeral chant for the repose of her soul!..\"