Ah, if the martyr of the love
Is suffering of a hopeless passion;
Though sad, you may live then, alas,
My friends, for many- many years.
But after long-long period how
Could your girl-friend to embrace -
The object of your strong desire,
Of bitter tears, of the craving,
And the one minute spouse - lose forever...
I think the better choice, dear friends
Is only to die to end!
Ruslan is alive, unlucky, though.
But what's the great knyaz said to all?
Defeated with the awful rumours,
Being beside himself with rage
To son-in-law, he calls the court:
"Where's Lyudmila?" - asks he then,
His face inflamed with fire burst.
Ruslan doesn't hear... "Dear children!
Dear friends! I do remember
Your old merits: take a pity
To old man! Who will consent
To ride for my daughter? Who's affair
And feat will be not in vain?
And you, Ruslan, let be ashamed,
Be racked with bitter torments, villain!
Even your wife you couldn't save! -
I'll give her only to that man,
With the half of my hereditable land,
Who's able to return her back?
Who's able? "I" - the fiancee said.
"I! I!" - Rogdai, Farlaf exclaimed
With Ratmir, being super-glad.
"Immediatly we'll our horses saddle,
And through the world we'll go far
In search for dear your knyazhna!
Be sure, father, we'll get fast!"
And old man spreads his hands at last
For them, tormented with severe anguish.