> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.hawkword.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Translation: The Ballad of Oleg the Wise by Pushkin - URL: https://www.hawkword.com/poetry/translation-the-ballad-of-oleg-the-wise-by-pushkin/ - Published: 2021-07-24T12:00:00.000Z - Updated: 2021-07-24T12:00:00.000Z - Description: Here's Oleg the Wise as he readies his might. Fool Khazars provoking his ire. Rash raid doomed their pastures and keeps to the plight His torches and swords so desire. Atop his best horse, clad in Byzantine mail His l... - Author: A. Gee - Tags: Poetry, Allpoetry Import, #Import 2026-04-25 19:56 Here's Oleg the Wise as he readies his might. Fool Khazars provoking his ire. Rash raid doomed their pastures and keeps to the plight His torches and swords so desire. Atop his best horse, clad in Byzantine mail His liegemen beside him, he rides on the trail Approaching a dark, brooding forest ahead He’s met by an ancient enchanter Тhe man serves the gods, old Perun it is said And seeks to foretell, not to banter His life’s spent in fasting, rune casting, and prayer Our Oleg rides up to the wizened soothsayer “So tell me, old mage, so beloved by the gods, What fate has in store? Does it hurry? Is the day coming soon, when my foes, oh so glad See me covered with dust, dead and buried? Do tell the whole truth, have no fear of my sword: And pick any war horse as your just reward”. “The magi fear not neither strongman nor lord And your princely gift is not needed; Our prophecy’s free, and requires no reward The fates shall, as always, be heeded The future is yet too obscure to endow But your die is cast, and as plain as your brow Remember the words that I utter, and know A warrior’s fame you most cherish; You’ll have it, and more, as your victories grow Byzantium yields, lest it perish The steppes and the ocean succumb, you’re so great Your enemies, jealous, abandoned by fate No rogue wave upon a deceptive blue sea, Or sudden, malevolent weather No knife, sling or arrow will dare to succeed The years are too kind, altogether Your armor protects you, you’ll never be gored Invisible forces must guard you, oh lord Your stallion’s fearless, no matter the task Obeying your will without rattle He’ll stand under fire so long as you ask Or race headlong into the battle He fears neither blizzard nor slaughter, indeed But your death will come from your favorite steed" Here Oleg does chuckle but his glowing face And visage soon darken with worry. Then grasping the saddle horn as if to brace He climbs off his horse, in no hurry. He places his hand on the stallion’s mane And ruffles it, pets it, with obvious strain “Goodbye my dear friend, ‘bye my trusted old brute, My friend whom the fates won’t abide You’ll be ridden no more! And no warrior’s boot Shall touch those gold stirrups and hide Goodbye, don’t be sad, but remember our wars Here grooms and companions, please take my horse Do cover his back in the finest of wool The greenest of pastures awaits him Do brush him and feed him, make sure that he’s full Drinks only spring water, and bathe him” The grooms rush to hurry the war horse away And bring Oleg a fresh one, with hardly a neigh Now Oleg is feasting, his face is aglow The din of old toasts ringing merry ‘Midst the curls of his warriors, now white as snow A top of their mound on the prairie Remembering battles from times long since gone The din of their swords and the blood that was drawn “So where is my friend?” He inquires at last "Do tell me: where is my old stallion? He’s well? Does he canter and gallop as fast? Is he still a playful rapscallion?" They quietly whisper: a hill green, and steep Is his resting place, there he sleeps the long sleep And here mighty Oleg does lower his head Lamenting: “what’s come of that vision? Damn mage, you old liar whose reason had fled! What folly to make that decision My steed would still carry me, still lead my force” He wants to be shown the remains of his horse And thus mighty Oleg proceeds from his court His liegemen with him, and Prince Igor He sees, on a mound near an old Dnieper port The bones that were once full of vigor In deep, swaying grass, the old dusty remains Are worn out and bleached by the winds and the rains The prince gently steps on the stallion’s skull And says “rest in peace, lonely friend Your rider of old did survive you but shall Soon follow you to the same end. But it won’t be your neck that is slashed on the plains To pour out your lifeblood and sate my remains" “So this is how fate chose to finally smite! These bones were my death and destruction!” From the dead horse’s skull, a snake darker than night Crawls, hissing in deadly seduction Encircling his feet in a black, mournful bow And Oleg screams, stricken, as fate deals its blow Round vessels of wine, and of mead, foam and spill And Prince Oleg’s warriors of yore With Igor and Olga a top of the hill Feast and reminisce, by the shore Remembering battles from times long since gone The din of their swords and the blood that was drawn --- **Author notes:** The first stanza, especially, is practically impossible to fully translate in rhyming style (I've lost count of how many versions of it I wrote) - it's packed full of information, difficult rhyming concepts like revenge and the Khozars, which were a khanate that was partially lording over old Rus (mostly before Mongol times) -- this is Russia prior to conversion to Christianity, and Prince Oleg is a legendary, Viking descendant figure of the earliest ruling families. it of course rhymes flawlessly in Russian There are of course numerous attempts -- here's a quick one: https://ruverses.com/alexander-pushkin/the-lay-of-the-wise-oleg/11063/ I think I did a decent job