“The Lay of Igor’s Host” in brief
The monument of ancient Russian literature of the late 12th century describes the march of the Novgorod-Severus Prince Igor to the Polovtsians and recalls ancient princely feuds, campaigns and successful battles.
“Word” begins with an introduction – an appeal to the great singer of antiquity Boyan. Beat Boyan, when he started the song, spread his thoughts through the tree, raced gray wolf on the ground, hovered with a blue eagle under the clouds… The author of the “Words” wants to write simply, “for the bygone of this time.” His story unfolds “from the old Vladimir” “to the present Igor,” who conceived alone, with a few relatives, to restore Russia’s Polovtsian land to the Black Sea.
At the very beginning of Igorev’s campaign an eclipse of the sun happened, but the prince neglected this bad omen: everything overcame the thirst to “tempt the Great Don”. He said a short speech
On Friday morning, the Russian regiments defeated the Polovtsians, took a rich booty – red Polovtsian girls, and with them gold, and pavoloki, and expensive aksamity. But on the next morning the main forces of the Polovtsi, led by the khans of Gzak and Konchak, suddenly came up. “Bloody dawns light announce, black clouds from the sea go, want to cover the four suns.” From all sides they surrounded the Russian regiments on the river Kayale. A bloody battle began, which was not seen at the time of the most terrible wars on Russian soil, under Oleg Svyatoslavich – Gorislavich. Brave all fought brother Igor Bui-Tur Vsevolod. Two days went on the battle, on the third by noon, Igor’s flags fell. “Here
The sad time has come. Brother said to his brother: “This is mine, and that’s mine.” And the princes began to talk about small things: “This is great” – and they themselves forsake sedition by themselves. And the foul on all sides came with victories on the Russian land.
Igorev brave the regiment does not resurrect. A great sorrow came all over the Russian land: “Igor the prince ruined what his father Sviatoslav Olgovich, who captured the Polovtsian Khan Kobyak, achieved.” The filthy Russians flew to Russian soil, took a tribute to the squirrel’s skin from the yard.
And the Kiev prince Svyatoslav saw a vague dream: they dressed him with a black veil on a yew-bed, scooped up a blue wine, with a mixed heart, poured a large pearl on his chest with empty quivers. All night long in the evening gray crows grail and rushed to the blue sea. Boyars told the prince about the defeat of Igor.
Then the great Svyatoslav defeated the golden word, with mixed tears. He reproached Igor and Vsevolod: they began early on the Polovtsian land to fight, and to seek fame for themselves. The princes are now no help to Svyatoslav: bad times have turned; in the city of Rimove, the Polovtsians are shouting under the swords, and Vladimir is under wounds. Svyatoslav addresses all the princes of the Russian land: will they come to the rescue? After all, the Grand Duke Vsevolod the Big Nest can sprinkle the Volga with oars, and dredge the Don with helmets. Brave Rurik and Davyd Rostislavich warriors gilded helmets floated through the blood. Galitsky Yaroslav Osmomysl sits high on the golden-plate table, propped up the Ugorskie mountains with his iron regiments, closed the gates to the Danube. All of them, and with them Volhynian and Polotsk princes are called to avenge the land of Russia, for the wounds of Igor, the brave Svyatoslavich. After all, even Sula does not protect against Pereyaslav, and the Dvina of Polotsk. Only Prince Izyaslav Vasilkovich called sharp swords on Lithuanian helmets, and he himself pierced the pearl soul from a brave body through a golden necklace.
Svyatoslav or the author calls on the descendants of Yaroslav the Wise and Vseslav Polotsky to stop enmity between themselves. There is a story about Vseslav, the sorcerer prince, as he rode from Polotsk to Kiev, from Belgorod to Novgorod. Because of him on the river Nemiga sheaves shave heads, thresh with chains, life is put on the current, the soul is breathed from the body. Vseslav in Polotsk called the matinee at St. Sophia, and he heard the sound in Kiev. To him, Boyan said to the chant: “Neither the cunning, nor the ghost, nor the bird of God’s judgment is not a minute.”
Yaroslavna, the wife of Prince Igor, early weeps in Putivl on the city wall, her voice is heard on the Danube. “I’ll fly,” he says, “with a cuckoo on the Danube, I’ll wet the sleeve in the Kayal River, in the morning the prince’s bloody wounds on the emaciated body.” Yaroslavna complains to the wind – that he has dispelled her fun in the steppes? Asks Dnepr-Slavutich: “Return, my lord, my beloved to me.” Appeals to the bright and triturated sun: “All of you are warm and red, why did your hot beams on the prince’s soldiers spread out?”
The sea has crumbled at midnight, clouds are flying with tornadoes. Igor God sees the way from the land of Polovtsian to the land of Russia, to the fatherly golden table. Igor sleeps and does not sleep – he measures the thought of the field from the great Don to the small Donets. Polovchinin Ovlur whistled to him behind the river. Prince Igor rode his ermine to the reeds, white gogol on the water, ran to the Donets, flew a falcon under the clouds. And when Igor flew the falcon, Ovlur escaped with a wolf.
Donets said to Igor: “Prince Igor, there is a lot of greatness for you, and Konchaq is in dislike, and Russian land is cheerful!” Igor answered: and you, Donets, have a lot of greatness: you cherished the prince on the waves, stole the green grass on his silver banks, dressed him with warm fogs under the green trees. It’s not the Stugna river: it devoured other people’s ships, shut the youth to Prince Rostislav, and now his mother is crying…
Followed by Igor rushed Gzak with Konchak. Then the crows did not croak, the daws fell silent, the magpies did not crack – only the snakes crawled and the woodpeckers showed the way to the river. Gzak said to Konchak: “If the falcon is flying towards the nest – shoot the falcon with gilded arrows.” Konchak answered: “We are knitting the falconer in a red maiden.” Gzak said: “If we entangle the falcon with a red girl – there will not be any falcon or maidens for us, birds will start beating us in the Polovetsky field.”
The sun is shining in the sky – Igor the Prince in the Russian land. The girls sing on the Danube – voices flutter to Kiev. Igor the prince travels along Borichev to the holy Mother of God Pirogoscha. Countries are happy, the hail is cheerful. Glory to Igor Svyatoslavich, Bui-Tur Vsevolod, Vladimir Igorevich! Princes of glory and team! Amen.
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