A Tale of the Dead Tsarevna and Seven Warriors
a Fairy Tale in Verse by Alexander Pushkin
Composed by the world’s best Russian poet,
Translated by a linguistically poetic genius,
Inspired by the world’s best-ever Muse!
Kissed the tsar his love-tsarina**,
Packed and sent his carriage reeling,
By the window all alone
Pined the queen and waited long;
Dawn till dusk she longed and waited –
Twilight came, the day abated,
Still, she gazed into the plains,
Straining – eyes and heart in pain.
Only blizzards, storms and flurries,
Only snowed-in fields and worries,
Only winter – regal, white,
No beloved tsar in sight…
Months were flying – nine gone swiftly,
Christmas Eve – the heart of winter,
Praise the Lord! His grace and might –
The tsarina on that night
Bore a daughter… On the morrow
Came her love, her joy and sorrow:
From the far and distant lands
Came the father-tsar at last;
Sighed the queen, relieved of sadness,
Sighed but heavily, if gladly,
Overwhelmed with bliss inside
She was dead by midday psalms…
Spent the tsar four seasons grieving,
In the murky shadows living,
But we sin for joy or gain,
And he married once again!
Truth be told, the new tsarina
Was a jewel: lovely, regal,
Slender, winter-white and tall,
Charming by her wit, and all,
Though haughty, proud, capricious,
Jealous, vengeful, even vicious;
Had the queen a wondrous glass –
Gifted to that dowered lass;
And that mirror had its magic:
It could talk and answer sagely,
Only to her mirror friend
Would the queen her graces lend –
Coyly laughing, flirting, basking
In her own beauty, asking:
“Oh, My Honey, Dear Glass –
Tell me all the truth at last:
Aren’t I loveliest and finest –
Beauty in this world defining?!”
And the mirror in reply:
“You, My Lady, no lie:
You’re the loveliest and finest,
Beauty in this world defining.”
And the queen would dance and whirl,
Laugh and giggle at these words,
Shrug her shoulders, snap her fingers,
Dote on her image, linger –
Arms akimbo – by the glass,
Proud of her own finesse…
Grew the princess, the tsarevna –
Young and lovely, modest, clever;
Far from sight – a distant rose,
Still, she blossomed, bloomed and rose;
White, as virgin snow unweathered,
Eyebrows black – a raven’s feather;
To a prince betrothed, they say,
By the name of Elisey.
Blessed the tsar this marriage fitting,
Gave a dowry: seven cities
Serving trade, and what is more –
Lofty chambers gave galore.
For the maids’ night getting ready,
For the party getting pretty,
At her lovely looking glass
Smiled the queen and took her guess:
“Oh, My Honey, Dear Glass –
Tell me all the truth at last:
Aren’t I loveliest and finest,
Beauty in this world defining?!”
And the mirror in reply? –
“You are lovely, no lie,
Yet the princess is the finest,
Beauty of our world defining.”
Angered, jolted – jumped the queen,
Full of bitterness and spleen;
Stomped her heel upon the flooring,
Slapped her mirror – truth abhorring:
“Wretched glass! How could you dare? –
Choosing her as fine and fair?
Rival me?! – Her mind is spinning,
Let me curb her feisty spirit…
Look at that! A dashing sight –
What a beau, so pale and white…
Certainly, her pregnant mother
Stared at snow daily, monthly;
But she could not, I dare say,
Fairer be in every way;
Do confess: I’m still the finest
In our kingdom hardly finite,
In the world that ‘for us lies!”
And the mirror in reply? –
“Still, the princess – purer, finer
Than all others to be found.”
‘Tis resolved and so the queen –
Green with envy, black with spleen –
Threw her glass beneath the benches,
Called her maid, the lassie Wenches;
Bidding her, a peasant serf:
“You’re my royal will to serve –
Bring the princess to the thicket,
Tie her with the rope that’s thickest,
Leave her there, beneath the pine,
Wolves shall have their feast in time.”
Who’s to fight this hellish fury?!
To the forest Wenches duly
Goes, the princess takes along –
Onward walking so long
That the princess guessed the reason
And in deathly horror freezing,
Pleaded with the lass, exclaimed:
“My, but how am I to blame?
Let me have my life and freedom,
And when I become tsarina
I’ll repay your noble act!”
Wenches loved the bride, in fact,
So, she foiled the plan entire –
Didn’t kill her, didn’t tie her:
“Lord be with you, Dear,” – she said,
Walking to the palace, sad;
“Well?” the queen inquired, wincing,
“Where’s our beauty? Tell me swiftly!”
“All alone and in the woods,”
Spoke the lass, “And tied but good,
Tightly bound her wrists and ankles,
For the wolves to feast and mangle –
Less to suffer from the beast,
Sooner she will have her peace…”
Sound the bells – the princess missing,
Grieves the tsar, he’s hopeless, listless;
But the young prince Elisey,
Making haste, is on his way;
Prays for strength to Lord Almighty,
And, the groom is off and riding –
Bound to find his love, his life,
Princess charming, almost-wife.
The tsarevna, meanwhile, wanders
Through the forest, full of wonder –
Lost, but walking on and on…
Luck! She finds a lodge by dawn.
Barked the “guard” and ran to meet her –
Tamed at once the playful critter,
Came the princess through the gate –
Silence. None to meet her gaze;
But her friend is licking, wagging,
Right along his mistress tagging,
Goes the princess up the steps,
To the wooden portal steps,
Pulls the ring, the door gives forward,
The tsarevna in and onward
Walks, into a spacious hall:
Saintly icons on the wall,
Oaken woodwork, rugs of style,
Russian stove with mural tiles***;
Sees the princess: decent folk
Live within these wooden halls –
None to slight a young fair maiden…
Not a soul – to her amazement;
Walked the princess all around,
Cleaned the nooks and crannies sound,
Lit a candle to the Father,
Lit the furnace warm and fiery,
Climbed upon the furnace cot,
Napping sweetly, where t’was hot…
Drawing near the time for luncheon –
Wakes the yard with stomping, crunching,
Enter seven warriors brave –
Beards, moustache, winning ways;
Speaks the eldest: “What a wonder!
Not a speck above or under!
Who would clean our lodge, our home –
Biding time while all alone…?
Show your face and meet us duly,
Be our friend sincerely, truly;
If you are a man of age,
You shall be our uncle sage,
If a lad who’s young and ruddy,
Be our friend and trusted brother,
If a lady, wise and old
You shall be ‘dear mother’ called,
If a lovely maiden, listen –
Be our dear beloved sister;
Down came the lovely lass,
Bowed low, in style and class;
Blushed and paled, and begged their pardon
That her visit was so sudden,
That she called on them uncalled,
Asking to forgive this fault;
By her speech they knew a princess –
Royal air was hers, intrinsic;
So, they gently sat her down,
Offered pastries golden-brown,
Filled her goblet to the brim
With a vintage wine of green;
Tired from a sleepless night,
Had the lass a little bite,
Shunned the wine, though rich in flavor,
Thanked them for the treats they gave her,
Then she begged to take her leave,
Needing rest and peaceful sleep;
So, they took their new-found sister
Up to rest and heal her blisters,
Taking her to rest aloft,
In a bright-lit wooden loft;
Days flew by, the young tsarevna
In the sylvan lifestyle reveled,
Never bored with life’s new bend,
With her seven warrior friends;
Right ‘for sunrise, any weather
Rode the brothers out together,
On a hunt for duck or fowl,
And for wily foes and foul;
Stretching arm, and sword and shoulder,
Slicing, piercing – ever boldly:
Foes unhorsed with verve and dash
Or beheaded in a flash,
Sent away from Russian forests
Enemies and nomads foreign;
And the girl was keeping home
As its mistress, all alone;
Never angry with each other –
Princess and the seven brothers;
She would clean and cook with ease,
While the days went on in peace…
Fell in love the seven brothers
With their princess, lovely rather;
Once, at dawn, into the hall
Came the suitors, standing tall,
Spoke the eldest brother, wistful:
“Dear, we love you as a sister,
Yet, there is this slightest strife:
Who shall wed you as a wife?
Each would marry you in gladness,
But, alas, ‘tis simply madness,
Help our quarrel melt and mend –
Take but one to be your man,
Have the rest as loyal brothers…
Oh, but why you’re sad and bothered?
Why the “no,” the swinging head?
Aren’t we worthy to be wed?
“Oh, you warriors, brothers, fighters,”
Spoke the lass, “You’re young and mighty,
And I love you like the world –
God be witness to my words –
But I’m promised to another,
Meant to be a wife and mother;
All of you are clever, bold,
And I dearly love you all,
Yet I gave a vow that’s sacred
And eternal. So, sadly,
Dearest to me, I’ll say
Is the brave prince Elisey!”
Stood the seven brothers silent,
Scratched their crowns, their fates decided:
“Do forgive our daring words,”
Said the eldest, “We’ll be warned.
Once we had to ask, but never
Will again.” “No friendship severed,
I’m not mad!” The princess said,
“Do not feel abashed or sad.”
Bowed the suitors to the princess,
Left her chambers softly, briskly;
Lived in harmony anew –
To each other true and blue.
And the wicked queen, tsarina,
Still recalled the youthful princess,
Bore a grudge, endured a slight,
Feeling scorned with all her might;
For a time, she shunned her mirror –
Feeling wrathful, spiteful, bitter,
But forgot her vengeful wrath,
Sitting down before the glass;
Pretty, dainty and beguiling,
Asked her question, kindly smiling:
“Greetings, Honey, Dear Glass –
Tell me all the truth at last:
“Aren’t I loveliest and finest,
Beauty in our world defining?!”
And the mirror in reply?
“You are lovely, no lie…
Though – simply, void of glory,
And amid the oak tree forests,
Lives with seven warriors true
One who’s lovelier than you.”
The tsarina stormed at Wenches:
“Lie to me?! On this? You wretched
Nothing! How dare you?! You…uncouth…”
Wenches told her all the truth:
So and so… The black tsarina
Threatening torture, stomping, screaming,
Bade her: “Kill at once the bride!
T’is my will! Or, you shall die…”
Once, the beautiful tsarevna
Knitted, waiting for her brethren,
Sitting by the window pane;
Sudden, angry barking came –
Growled and scowled the dog. A veiled
Old nun the princess hailed,
Walked the yard and fended off
With her stick the furious dog;
“Granny, wait!” the princess greets her
From the window, “Let me treat you
To some bread. I’ll tell my dog
To be calm at once and stop.”
And the nun replies: “Oh, Honey,
I am all but dead and hardly
Breathing. What a wretched beast!
All I want, My Dear, is peace!
Just you look! He’s fussing, jumping,
Won’t you come?!” The princess justly
Wants to help her. Steps ahead,
Taking with some fresh-baked bread;
Walking off the porch, the critter
Goes berserk and savage, bitter!
Will not let the princess pass –
Wild as wolves to guard the lass,
Will not let the nun come nearer!
“Strange…” the princess notes, “My Dearest,
Are you tired?!” To the nun:
“Catch!” and throws her the bun.
Caught the hag this bread, the present:
“Thank you, Dear, you’re kind and pleasant,
God be with you! In return
Have a gift. It’s yours and earned.”
And she tossed a lovely apple –
Golden, juicy. At an angle
Flies the apple, in a curve,
Barked the dog, and squealed and swerved;
But the princess caught it, nimbly,
With two hands. Now sweetly-grimly
Spoke the nun: “Do eat it, Love!
Thank you for the timely lunch.”
Saccharine her voice, endearing,
Then she bowed, disappearing;
Runs the dog up to the porch,
Wailing, saddened, with a lurch;
Fiercely growling, looking at her –
With a canine heart that’s fettered,
Telling her with all his might:
“Toss the apple!” Tender, light
Pets her friend our lovely princess:
“Why, Sokolko, what is with you?!****
Down! Rest!” and in she went,
Locked the door and left her friend.
By the window knitted, smiling,
Friends awaiting and admiring
Golden colors of the fruit –
It was mellow, ripe and looked
So lovely, so inviting,
Fragrant, fresh and begged a bitling;
Seeds shone through – it was so ripe,
Honey, green – her very type!
For dessert she meant it, fondly
Took the apple, but beyond her
Was resisting it, she tipped
Forward with her scarlet lips,
Took a bite and swallowed lightly,
Had a piece of it, delighted;
Faltered, swayed the girl, alas,
Breathless turned my lovely lass,
Dropped the mellow ruddy apple,
Dropped her pale hands… And dampened,
Dimmed her sparkling eyes, her gaze,
On the bench she fainted, dazed –
Right beneath the icons nestling…
There, motionless, she rested.
Seven brothers rode home
In a joined and jolly drone,
After daring bold adventures,
After riding with a vengeance;
Angry howls came outside –
Wails the dog. “An evil sign,”
Spoke the seven, “Not an omen
Bringing joy,” descended, opened
Wooden doors. And speechless stood,
Rushed the dog towards the fruit,
Ate the apple – furious, livid;
Fell, no longer barking, living –
For the mellow juicy fruit
Carried poison, through and through…
Stood the brothers, mourning deeply,
Loving the tsarevna dearly;
Bowed their heads, the sadness sown,
Said a prayer for her soul,
Took her off the bench and dressed her,
Meant to bury her, but lastly
Changed their minds: she seemed asleep,
Taking but a dreamy leave –
Looking vital, resting easy,
But, alas, she wasn’t breathing;
So, they waited for three days –
Still the princess in a daze;
Sad, they did the rites and softly
Laid her in a crystal coffin:
Their true princess – fine, if still;
All together, up a hill
Walked, the midnight silence followed,
Took her to a mountain hollow:
In a cave there stood six poles –
In that cavern, dark and old;
On a chain they hung the coffin
Iron-wrought, by fire toughened,
Placed a fence – to guard around,
Bowed deeply to the ground;
Said the eldest: “Sleep, dear sister!
May your rest be godly, peaceful;
Jealous malice took your grace –
Drained your life and still your face,
You were loved by us and destined
For your groom…Now, ever resting,
No one man to taste your kiss –
Just the coffin swings in bliss…
That same day the dark tsarina,
Waiting for the news and gleeful,
Slyly, took her magic glass,
Asked her question now at last:
“Aren’t I loveliest and finest
Beauty in our world defining?!”
Gave the mirror its reply:
“You, My Lady, no lie:
You’re the loveliest and finest,
Beauty in the world defining.”
And our daring Elisey
Day and night was on his way,
Riding, looking for his lady –
Futile! Cries the prince, he’s fading;
None have seen her – none he asks,
Not in sight the royal lass,
Jest the passersby and people –
Turn away or, puzzled, peer;
But at last our loyal prince
Glanced above and took the risk:
“Golden Sun, you walk the heavens,
Watchful – always, resting – never,
Year ‘round you see it all,
Turning summer into fall,
Fall – to winter, won’t you tell me? –
Have you seen in all your travels
My dear princess, bride and love?
Spoke the Sun: “Not from above:
Haven’t seen, alas, the princess,
Maybe, she’s no longer with us,
Though… ask the Crescent Moon,
He’s my neighbor, waking soon,
He, perhaps, has seen or met her
And, with luck, he’ll help you better!”
Elisey, with all his might
Waited for the fall of night,
Now it came, upon their meeting
Raced the prince – imploring, pleading:
“Friendly Crescent, young and white,
Golden Brother of the Night!
In the starlit hours and darkest
Gleams your countenance. Darting
To the world – your silver rays,
Stars admire your moonshine ways…
But, My Crescent, won’t you tell me:
Have you seen in all your travels
Her – I love to no end?!”
Spoke the Crescent: “Prince, my friend,
No, I haven’t seen your lady,
No one passed my vigil lately,
But I stand my guard at night,
With the stars awake and bright,
It must be, the young tsarevna
Passed me in her own travels.”
“What a pity,” said the prince,
“Wait!” the Crescent added, “brings
Many news the Wind, it might be
He can help – he’s swift and mighty,
Do not grieve, be brave and try:
Go and ask him, now – good-bye!”
Hope alive, the prince now galloped,
Asking of the potent gale:
“Mighty Wind, you’re strong and proud,
Master of the storms and clouds,
Fearing none but God in Heaven,
Breaking waves, creating havens,
Seas and oceans at your will –
Raging, splashing, standing still…
Please, do answer: won’t you tell me
Have you seen in all your travels
My dear princess, love and bride?”
“Wait…A stream runs quietly, ride…”
Spoke the Wind, his air mounting,
“Past the stream into the mountain
There lies a tall deep cave,
And within – a somber grave,
Stand six poles inside the mountain,
Only silence rings, resounding,
Swings a coffin, crystal-clear
In a darkness – pitch and sheer,
No footprints near that recess…
In that coffin lies the princess.”
Off he was, in windy gear,
And the prince shed bitter tears;
Still, he went towards the cavern –
Set to see his bride, if never
Happiness was theirs to have…
On he walked and up ahead
Lay a wasted land and barren,
Sheer cliffs, beneath – a cavern,
Looms an entrance – dim and dark,
Sees our prince the cave and darts;
In that gloom, by light unsoftened
Rocked a crystal royal coffin;
In that grotto, tall and deep
There she lay – eternal sleep.
And the prince, with all he mustered,
Hit against the glassy luster –
Broke the coffin, now the girl
Came to life, and in a whirl
Looked around: dazed, befuddled;
Sighing, said a little fondly:
“Oh, My, how long I’ve slept!”
Up she sat and off she leapt;
They rejoiced, I tell you, dearly –
Hugging and embracing, tearing.
Saved from dark and deathly plight,
Carried out into the light,
Mounts the bride, and with – her champion,
Riding home and sweetly chatting;
Swiftly spreads the joyful word:
Lives the girl to grace the world…
Sat the queen at home and idled,
Still her wickedness – unbridled,
Sat, conversing with her glass,
Asking it, the time to pass:
“Aren’t I loveliest and finest –
Beauty in this world defining?!”
And she heard back in reply:
“You are lovely, no lie,
Yet the princess is the finest,
Beauty in our world defining.”
Reeling, mad, she sprang up fast,
Crashed the magic looking glass,
Ran towards the exit, incensed –
Face to face she met the princess;
T’was too much, alas, for her,
Died the queen and was no more.
After burying the tsarina,
Came the wedding – festive, regal,
Wed the young prince Elisey
With his lovely bride. They say,
Never such a feast existed
Since Creation… And I feasted,
With them, drinking mead and beer –
Barely wet my lips, I fear…
English translation by Vladimir Reznikov©