РиЛ, П. 1, Руслан томится... - пер. А. С. Пушкина

Ruslan is pining in deep silence,
Being in state of lose of mind.
Farlaf in that time looks too grandious,
And over shoulder throw his glance,
As puffed, ride the Ruslan's horse after
And says: "I hardly waited freedom,
My dear friends! Now got a chance
To meet a Giant! I'm eager
To make a river from his blood!
And much will be the victims' number!
Be cheered, my true sword, that time,
Be ardent, my brave horse! Undoubtly
I'll be a winner, I don't lie!"

The khazar's Khan, taking as fact
The future marriage with Lyudmila,
Looks as if dancing over the back
Of horse, his young blood cheerly
Is playing, hope - in his eyes.
And he is galloping and teasing
His jaunty chaser, rearing up,
Circling and riding it through mounts.

Rogdai is sullen, mute in fear
Of future destiny, which could
Be rather changeable, and stricken
With jealousy and the vain mood,
He is in trouble all the way,
And hardly, horrofully looking
On knyaz Ruslan, wishing him bad.

And all the pretendents are riding
Along the same road all day,
The Dnepr-river bank turns darker,
From east there creeps the night shadow,
And over Dnepr there stretches mist,
To rest their horses have a need.
Under one great hill they all meet
The cross of a new wide road, then
They say: "It's time to leave!
We ought to turn to our fate!"
And every horse, without feel
Of steel curb, rush onto the way,
They choosed by their own will.

What are you doing, Ruslan, poor,
Alone in this silence deep?
May be your marriage day, for sure,
Lyudmila - was the only dream?
And putting the copper helmet over
The eyes, throwing off the reins,
You are at slow pace still going
Through fields, without a hope ray,
And slowly belief in your heart
Is dying, as the falling sun.