Yuri Starostin

Veteran Poet - 1,950 Points (4.07.1972.)

The Vityaz In The Tiger Skin Shota Rustaveli The Arabian Tsar Meets The Vityaz In The Tiger Skin - Poem by Yuri Starostin

THE ARABIAN TSAR MEETS THE VITYAZ IN THE TIGER SKIN

Suddenly the Arabs noticed the young stranger.
Grieved, he held for the reins the raven horse.
The equipment of the riding men sparkled by the large pearls,
The rose covered by a hoarfrost, as from a ice wind.

Dressed in a skin of a tiger and in the same strange cap,
He sat and bitterly cried, this foreign vityaz.
Having the thickness in a man's arm, his lash was to stamp.
'What is a strange image! ' - the tsar with all guard thought.

At last, to base faster an initiative to the acquaintance,
The lord has sent the slave for the newcomer.
But the crystal rain of the agate currents streamed,
And the pleb could not to say a word, ride in.

The slave confused could not a words to pronounce to the stranger.
At last, having come in the mind, he exclaim, admired:
'The tsar ordered'... And again he mute, amused boundlessly.
But that stranger vityaz did not see him even.

The vityaz heard nothing and has not understood this speech,
It was not sign to the sufferer that the armies rustle afar.
The heart flared in a flame, the shoulders silently shuddered,
The blood was stirred with a tears, as in the field of a terrible battle.

His mind soared afar, having not a forces to shake off a dreams
And, when the messenger invite him in the trip,
The vityaz has not told a words, only poured a tears on a breast.
This rose did not want the fine lips to open.

And the messenger to Rostevan has come back without the answer:
'The tsar, this vityaz does not want to hear the reign greetings,
He has blinded my eyes by the shine of a sunlight,
Only I lost a time, do not punish me for it '.

The tsar was marveled and in the anger has ordered immediately to the servants:
'Go on all twelve, everyone with the palitsa and the onions!
If this stranger does not answer me by a sound,
Take him in the captivity by the force and reward according the service'.

Here the slaves, rattling by the gun, have approached to the stranger,
And this vityaz, the son of the unknown earth has regained a consciousness.
He has looked back suddenly, sewing the troops in the distance.
'A grief to me! ' - told, and the tears flew on his face.

And he brushed away these tears, and wiped the face by the arm,
Corrected the sword on a belt, hung up the onions for the back,
Saddled slowly and go by the side,
Has not listened that the slaves wanted to report on the hero.

Soldiers have stretched the arms, wanted to detain him.
Grief, that he made with them! Their enemies would regret!
He brought down them one to one, as do nobody another hitherto,
Dissected on a belt by the lash, punching an armour to a cracks!

The tsar been enraged, and other group departed to a pursuit.
The dust is twisted, the horses rush, an armour burns in the air.
The vityaz has again looked back and, stirring a range to a range,
Began to throw a slaves one to one, filled by a fierce flame.

The tsar jumped up and with Avtandil has hastened on the battlefield.
The stranger of the harmonous camp silently moved in a fog.
His face shone by the light, a horse do -yar as Merani,
The approach of the sovereign he was noticed earlier.

He lashed a horse, and the wonderful horse whirl up, obedient to the will
Of the horseman, and all disappeared - it is visible nobody more:
Neither a horse, nor the stranger... Either risen on the sky,
Or failed in the earth- but a traces have disappeared in the field.

Do much the people searched them - have not found. And an imperial camp
Decide that a demon has filled on them a dope.
The people cried on the dead men, washed the ulcers of a wounds.
'The hour has come, the end to fun! - mournfully Rostevan said. -

It is visible, to the God has bothered to behold my fun,
Therefore he sends a hang-over after the pleasure.
All is to me in the burden, the life is cool, as a pernicious potion...
Care me, founder, as care me, have till now! '

And the tsar depart, sighing, is full of a grief and a care,
He was invited nobody to the hunt continuation.
Those which tested his lavishness earlier have depart away.
One told: 'Whim! ' And others do: 'He is rights, that you do! '

The tsar disappeared in a bedchamber. Avtandil, the called son,
Come back from the hunt, alone escort him.
The lord noticed nobody from all house,
And the kimval and a tambourine become silent in a sign of the grief.

The daughter-tsarin came more crystal then a white light,
Tortured the butler before that bedchamber:
'The parent sleeps or is awake? '-'Returned from the far hunting,
Our sovereign with each hour becomes more and more sad.

Speak, the enemy force appear to him on the hunting,
He grieves and does not listen a console of Avtandil '.
'I will leave, - the maiden has told and then spoke: -
If will ask about the tsarin, report that I leave '.

At last the lord has asked: 'Where is the young moon?
Only she is, live dew, will cure me only! '
'A sovereign, - the butler told, - she came et,
But, knowing that you are gloomy, have left, is confused '.

'You descend, - the lord told, - and tell to her, for a God:
'Why you left from a fatherly threshold?
Come more soon, pleasure, be to the parent the help,
I will tell to you, daughter, what is my alarm '.

And the obedient daughter of the tsar come, was not late,
As the moon, is sky-face, to console the tsar is ready.
The lord sit her, kissed and gentle again,
Spoke: 'Why you, pleasure, have not come to me without a call? '

'Sovereign, when you are gloomy, - the daughter of the tsar answered, -
Will not enter to you and an impudent one, to idol your rest.
Seeing you are sad, and the dawn dim out.
But it is more useful to penetrate into the deal, than to despair in vain '.

'Oh child, -the lord told, - at an o'clock when the grief comes,
I find a console only in your fine look.
Only you one will can to cure me from an ill
And you will not reproach me, knowing about mine shame.

A same foreign vityaz has met to me in the valley,
His face similar to the sun, I will not forget henceforth.
He sat and bitterly cried for the unknown reason,
He did not want to approach with a kind word to my team.

Seeing that I am angered, he has rushed on a horse.
I have sent a slaves for - he lash them on a back.
He, as a demon, has disappeared in a space, has not returned to me.
Either I saw him really, or I dream in the sleep?

And suddenly the sweet gift of the creator of the universe became me bitter,
A days I forgot when I had fun as a blissful same.
This impudent vityaz has revolted mine mind,
How many days I will live, I will not be consoled by the transitory life! '

'Tsar, - to answer the maiden has told, - you listen to my word.
Why you was condemned the destiny and the god so severely?
Neither you curse that, which did not deprive you a cover in the life?
To able favour to a human is not mind an malicious affairs!

You are the lord over a tsars! Here is to you, my council:
You hold the boundless countries the many years.
So send the reliable people, let will go round the whole world,
Let known, the human, this vityaz, is or is not.

If he is same mortal, the human, as we are with you, -
He will be in due course. If he is not present, then, I will not hide,
He was, apparently, a devil, sending to us by the fate.
Do not weary yourself by the grief, do not torment yourself by the languish! '

And the fast walkers have departed to a four parts of the world.
It have told them: 'Be courageous, overcome all hardship,
Find out, who is that vityaz of the unknown breed to us,
Send the letters in a remote place, do not stint on the expenses '.

The messengers wandered the whole year, proceeded the half-earths,
Have asked, as could do, all acquaintances, unfamiliar men,
But that who knew the sufferer, do much they fought, have not found
And got the annoy have come back, exhausted, in a dust.

'Sovereign, - they have told, - we everywhere have visited,
But there was no to meet us a vityaz, fulfilled a grieves.
A strangers have not heard anything about him hitherto.
Do that is necessary for you, but you will find him hardly probable! '

'Ah, - the tsar has answered, - I see that a tsarin was rights:
I have got to the hell seine, begun to cry and pine.
That was not a vityaz, but the devil departed fly, precisely a bird.
Away a grieves and an alarms! We will live and have fun! '

And again the games have opened, and the singers and the actors charming a look
and refer to an imperial court yard.
The tsar share a lot of a gifts, gathering the meeting in the palace, -
Speak: the people, so generous, the god has not created till now.

Avtandil is in the hall, dumped an expensive dress,
Enjoyed a harp ring, remembering about the past events.
Suddenly the black-attendant of that woman, whose camp is more harmonous than an aloe.
'The sun- face, -he told, - waits for you in the rest'.

And the spaspet has seemed that his dream come true,
And he has clothed immediately in the expensive dress.
He has been called on the meeting for the first time without an aside men.
It is sweet to be near to the love woman, to reflect her shine!

No confused, he approached to the palace, is beautiful and dared,
For that for whom he take suffer so much grief.
But a sad look of the tsarin, as a lightning, burnt,
And the moon in this shine damned its party.

Carefully the fine fur of an ermine muffled up her breast,
The veil fell down from a head, shining by a delightful fabric,
The gloom of the eyelashes stuck into a heart, as a black copies flight,
An ringlets kissed the neck, the dense plait was twisted from the shoulders.

But the tsarin under the transparent veil was gloomy,
Bt the gentle voice, however, has ordered to sit down to the hero.
The slave has submitted a chair to her. He has sat down with the live pleasure
And, face to face with the beloved woman, revelled by the beauty.

The vityaz said: 'What I will tell if your soul is gloomy?
Speak, to meeting the sun the moon dim out also.
I am not a forces more to think, as there is on me a fault.
What is, tell, I will console you? What is you are confused now? '

'Vityaz, - the maiden answered favourably and politely, -
You have been hitherto remote from me unfairly.
And, though our meeting you esteemed for a miracle,
I will tell about my great trouble to you truthfully.

You remember, how more recently, competing with Rostevan,
You meet in the field the foreign stranger?
Past this case I think about him, crying in a incessant grief.
Find him to me, vityaz! Go on the afar countries!

And though you could not see till now your moon,
I know: alone you love only me,
Incessantly the tears you sharpen, you thaw every spring,
That your heart pines only for me in a captivity.

Listen, vityaz. You are obliged to me to serve for the two reasons:
You are, first of all, the glory warrior, dared by the lion spirit,
Secondly, you became midjnur, to submit to me obey, -
Therefore I ask you: find the stranger to us!

I love you immensely, but I will love more,
If you win this ex-fume on a battlefield.
Give grow to a colours of the hope in the poor heart, filled of a pain!
Know, my lion: I will meet you, sitting on a throne.

You search him three years and, found a true trace,
Come back, winner, get the greatest victories.
You will not find, so I will be assured that is not present him on the world,
And I will give you forever un-faded rose colour.

I swear to you, my vityaz: if I will marry for another,
Be he is even the sun of the world in the kind of the young country man, -
Let then I will lose a paradise! I am and ready to descend in a hell!
Though pierce me by a dagger, I will not tell to you a words! '

'Oh, - the vityaz exclaim on, - maiden, whose eyelashes are from the agate!
What is I will tell to you on it? All soul is filled by the fire!
You have returned me to the life, here the payment for a sorrows!
For you, your slave, I will go on any enemy!

God has created you similar to the sun over the evil world,
He has submitted to you all heavenly bodies in the sky.
Therefore yours lavishness is not either a measures, or a numbers,
Therefore the rose has again revived in yours shine! '

They have sworn each other by a marvellous oath more strong a steel
And, talking friend to friend, begun to calm down,
And the happy minutes for the enamoured man have come,
The pearls from the opened lips as the lightnings, shone.

They sat down together, smiled and to kiss innocent
Have embraced an agate to an agate and have merged a ruby to a ruby.
He told: 'Deprive the mind you can by the uniform sight,
Only my sick heart you fill by the lion spirit! '

And the vityaz has left the maiden, and he has returned back.
Looking around, as a mad man, he go at night at random.
He strewed the crystal hailstones on the shining roses,
Betrothed the heart with the heart to be true a hundred times.

He spoke: 'Oh star! I am amazed by the wily destiny,
I am - a crystal, a ruby and a rose - accept the amber colour.
How a three years I will be lived afar the dawn shine girl?
Pining by the grief, I will die, ungrateful! '

Laid down on a box, cry bitterly, cannot wipe a tears,
Bends as a poplar downwind, but the grief gnaw more and more.
Only he will doze off - again the image of the darling will disturb heart,
The vityaz will scream and, having woken up, the grief will increase in twenty times.

So the flour of an ardent hearts feel him.
The pearls of the tears shone on the rose, and its crimson caressed.
He wake up in the morning, has dressed, clicked a servants and at last
Ride in the palace on his favourite horse.

And he has sent the courtier to Rostevan with the refer:
'Tsar, I will dare to address for yours offer.
Your sword is glory, all people honor him to obey.
I should remind it to all neighbor settlers.

Nowadays I am obliged to go the war on the opponents,
To put an end to a robbery by the nice news about the tsarin.
I will please a obedient ones, I will calm a rebellious ones,
I will send a lot of a gift, only I will arrange your affairs '.

And the lord has told him, listen his words:
'The lion, to evade a fight is unworthy the title of a lion.
We are obliged with you to protect our rights.
Go on, but what is to me to do, if you will spend a two years? '

And the vityaz has entered to the lord and has told to him with a bow:
'Sovereign, I did not think to be so highly eulogised!
God, perhaps, will light up to me a long journey under a sky,
And I will see you again is invariably favourable '.

The tsar embraced him as for a son, kissed him, sighing.
The tutor and the pupil - whether is somewhere a such couple?
And Avtandil has left the lord of the country in the depart day.
Rostevan is soft-heart cry, spilling a tears.

And the vityaz has left a city and wandered a twenty days,
Gradually coming nearer to a farther ancestral lands.
The pleasure of the world and the people is stately and brave,
He burnt more and more strongly in eternal thoughts about the beloved girl.

And, when he, wanderer, has arrived in the boundary demesne,
The grandee brought to him an expensive tribute.
Everyone who has seen him, blossomed from the contemplation,
But the vityaz hastened in the road and was afraid a delay.

Here, there is not visible the end of the steeps in the middle of the natural rocks,
He owned the impregnible and mighty, nice city.
Here the vityaz lived the three days, beat an animals in the dense wood,
Conferred with Shermadin, the best true friend.

'Shermadin, - the vityaz has said, - I will confess frankly,
I am guilty to you: you served me faultlessly,
I am, hiding my love, grieved and cried eternally.
Now I am encouraged by my love girl infinitely.

Tinatin has captivated me, and narcissuses dropped in the day of the grief
On the snow-covered roses the tears burning.
I did not want that people known about my love,
But now the hope words heal my grief.

The tsarina order to me: 'Open the secret of the vityaz,
And, when you will return back, I will be your wife.
I will not marry for another, will he is the paradise bush! '
Her speech – a balm for the heart exhausted by the melancholy.

I am, yours lord, obliged the power of the tsar to consider supreme
And to serve him I obey, as the implicit servant, -
This is first. Secondly: concluded the love alliance,
The shyness in the trial days I esteemed is sinful.

Only we are the friends each to each from a lords and a subordinates.
I pray, render me an unprecedented service.
I rest on you all troops and all district,
I trust only you, vote to depart.

Lead the troops, protect the country from a troubles,
Know through a messengers, our tsar oar or is not,
Send him the gifts and the letters throughout the three years.
Let anybody in the country does not know that his spaspet disappeared.

Accept my guise on the hunting and in the battles,
Keep the secret three years and guard the convenance.
I will return et, perhaps, - the maiden word is given me.
I will not return - farewell to me and cry my majesty.

You appear before Rostevan in this day with the sad news
And open in all to him, as the drunk men has stuck only.
Tell that I have died: a doom for all devoted to us, -
And share my riches for a deprived settlers.

You are, coming back in a city, be to me betrayed doubly:
Do not forget me suddenly, eternally remember me.
Arranged all my affairs, pray alone,
Remember our childhood on the native side '.

And this message for Shermadin was similar to a thunder,
And he has begun to cry suddenly, and has felt a languor.
He told: 'What pleasure is without you to the simple slave?
But my entreaties are vain: all the same you will leave from the home.

You ordered to be to me the lord and the leader to your team.
Unless it is to me on the forces - to replace you henceforth?
How I will forget, that you, poor, wander in the desert?
Better I with you will go beg a grief on the foreign land! '

'No, - the vityaz answered, - I should put on my side:
If the midjnur runs in the desert, he does not wander couple.
We get the marvellous pearls for the great disasters.
Yes will die the perfidious one, dying under a spear!

Who is to I could, if nor you have, to share this secret?
Whether I could entrust to another this work extraordinary?
Strengthen my borders, observing for the edge.
I will return more, perhaps, avoided a trouble casual.

To perish from a misfortune both one and hundred for the time.
A loneliness - not a destruction if the god rescues us.
If I will not done for a three years, cry on me at a sad o'clock.
On the possession of the country I give you the decree '.

Topic(s) of this poem: hero


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, December 5, 2015



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