In sad mood, with the cloudy faces
At noisy wedding table there are three
Vityazes*, such young, in silence, * vityaz - the name of hero in old Russia
And with their empty ladles, sitting.
They had forgotten of the cup's circle,
They are distressed, dislike the beer,
As well as songs of Bayan-oracle;
Their eyes are dropped down the floor -
They are in confront to Ruslan,
And deep in soul they do store
The poison of both hatred, love.
One of them is Rogdai, the famous conqueror,
He with his sword enlarged
The territory of ukranian fields.
The other lad - is Farlaf-shouter,
He's never been defeated on the feasts,
But in the swords he is less brave, though;
The last guy - is the knyaz Ratmir,
From Khazaria, he's caught with passion.
With gloomy, pale faces sit
They on the feast, not feast for them.
When party finished, all stand up
In rows, mixing in a crowd;
All look at the young pair, shyly
The bride lowers down eyes,
As if she'd turned sad with her heart,
But her bridegroom is gay and light.