The Russian .Legend by Dmitry Sadovnikov

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!.."