Suddenly he remembered the Evanshan potion, took it out and gave the young man a sniff of that tops. With this a miracle happened. The guy turned pale, “The native steppe – wide, free and colorful – suddenly appeared before my eyes, with her and my friend, unfortunate… Volodya, my favorite volost! Native tents, native people…” He cried out: “It’s better to lie with your bones in your native land, to die, than in a foreign land hostile to glory and honor to abide! ” – and went along with the singer on the road, avoiding the watchman.
Once upon a time in Kiev in slavery was the beloved son of Polovtsian Khan, a little boy. Once, during the campaign, Prince Vladimir Monomakh took him prisoner and left with him for his beauty. The boy lived in luxuries and eventually gradually began to forget his native steppe, and the foreign land and customs were considered native. But not so lived the khan “without a beloved child”,
alone. He was sad and lamented, did not eat or sleep. Then he called his singer and turned to him with these words: “Listen, elder, you are riding a clear falcon in the clouds, gray wolf in the field you will download, you understand in the charms.
“Ukraine! Mother dear! Was it the same with you?” Are there many of your sons left, did they not renounce you? Once there were kobzars – folk singers, who brought to the people “noble covenants”, “now we have no strength, no spirit that raises our legs, and we are wandering about the streets without a road.” Where is the Evanshan to take, then the potion – a love spell to direct to a certain path?! “
You have a divine gift from the sky – to portend fate to people, in a word, to attract everyone to your song. “And he asked him to go to the Russian Land, find his son, tell him how his father misses him. to the envoy: “Bury him to our song, native, Polovtsian, our free-living habit, our youthful character. And if he does not help, give him the Evansan-potions, so he sniffed, he remembered
the steppes of free territory. “And the singer went on the road, walked three days and three nights. He came to Kiev at midnight, crept in like a thief to his master’s son and began to persuade him to come back, but the words do not work for the guy, because he forgot both his father and his family. “Then the singer struck the strings, sang the song of” free people “” about knightly campaigns, “” about glorious events. “First, – String strings, “” tongues frenzied blizzard. “Then the singing was replaced by” folk, a lullaby. “The singer quietly sang to the young Polovchanian that song that his mother sang when he swayed, but the songs” did not impress the youthful heart. “The elder bowed in desperation:” Where rustka instead of the heart, there will be no more salvation. “