And here is the church on empty road,
Since old ages it rests in it
One knyaz, he's a saint for now,
But by the furious hand was killed.
Times after may the passing traveller
Be praying hardly near it,
Whether he go on a holiday or fighting,
This pray could him keep
From a moslim's dagger bad.
But this brave bridegroom had neglected
The rules of ansestors, and tempted
He was then by the dream of his fiancee;
The demon lured him in mind,
He was filled with the long for love
Under the veil of the night.
But suddenly before him shadows appeared...
What's for? The shot is heared.
The brave knyaz raised on the stirrups ringing,
Moved his papakha on eyebrows, * papakha - a wool cap
Without a word he rushed as eagle
With turkish gun against the foes...
The shot's again! A wild cry
And a muffled groan then had swept
Through vale deep. The furious fighting
Was short, the georgians fleed, got frightened.