The Song of Igor's Campaign,
Igor son of Svyatoslav and grandson of Oleg

  • The Song of Igor's Campaign,
    Igor son of Svyatoslav and grandson of Oleg
  • Translated by Vladimir Nabokov
  • Exordium
  • Boyan apostrophized
  • Vsievolod's speech
  • The Eclipse and Igor's speech
  • Igor sets out; accumulation of omens
  • Igor rides on
  • The first engagement
  • Night, and dawn of Saturday
  • Saturday: the Kumans counter-attack
  • Vsevolod in battle
  • Recollections of Oleg's feuds
  • Termination of battle
  • Defeat and Lamentations
  • Victories of Svyatoslav III recalled
  • Igor blamed
  • Svyatoslav's dream
  • The Boyars explain their sovereign's dream
  • Svyatoslav's speech
  • The Author apostrophizes contemporaneous prnces
  • Izyaslav recalled
  • Conclusion of Apostrophe
  • Vseslav's fate recalled
  • Yaroslavna's incantation
  • Igor's escape
  • Igor's return
  • Conclusion

  • Translated by Vladimir Nabokov

    Original of this text is located at the "Cossack page"

    You can find another translation of "The Song of Igor's Campaign" at Russian History Home Page


          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
          be]: 65
          "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
          brightness, 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
          tight, 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
          darkness 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
          oakscrub. 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
          Igor! 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
          Oleg, 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
          ago; 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. 260
          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
          times. 315
          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!" 350
          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
          troops, 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. 435
          "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
          land, 460 and seek personal glory;
          but not honorably you triumphed
          for not honorably you shed
          pagan blood.
          Your brave hearts are forged of
          hard 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
          boots, 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
          posterior 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
          from 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
          Gleb! 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
          throne; 530 you have braced the Hungarian
          with your iron troops;
          you have barred the [Hungarian]
          king's 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
          foliage. 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
          there; 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. 640
          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
          tag: 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,
          repeating: 700
          "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,
          flew, 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
          winds. 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
          osiers 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
          [slope] 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