Oh you goy esi, Tsar Ivan Vasilyevich!
About you, we have laid down our song,
About tvovo favorite Oprichnik,
To pro smelogo customer, of the Kalashnikov:
We put it in the old way,
We Phewa it under guslyarny ringing
And yes prichityvali priskazyvali.
Orthodox people it teshilsya,
A Boyar Matvey Romodanovsky
We podnes glass of honey Penny,
A noblewoman of his white-faced
He brought to us on a silver platter
new towels, silk embroidered.
We were treated to three days, three nights,
And all listened - not been listening.
It shines in the sun red sky,
I do not admire them blue clouds:
It's for their meals sitting in gold wreaths,
Sitting terrible Tsar Ivan Vasilyevich.
Behind him stand attendants,
Contrary all his boyars yes princes,
On each side of it all guardsmen;
And the king feasting in the glory of God,
The fun and the joy of their.
smiling, Then the king commanded
Sweet wines overseas
Draw some in his gilded the bucket
And bring it oprichniki.
- And all the drinking, king boasted.
Only one of them, of guardsmen,
brave warrior, an exuberant fellow,
In the golden ladle mustache not drenched;
He lowered his eyes to the ground dark,
He lowered little head on his broad chest -
His chest was strong Duma.
Here furrowed brows black king
And brought upon him the eyes of watchful,
He looked like a hawk from a height of heaven
Mladen dove Sizokrylov, –
I do not look up a young fighter.
Here on earth the king slapped with a stick,
And the oak floor in the three-thirty
He struck iron okonechnikom -
He does not flinch, and then a young fighter.
Here is murmured word menacing king, –
And then came good fellow.
"Hey you, Our faithful servant, Kiribeevich,
Al thought you held his wicked?
Ali jealous of our glory?
Ali honest service to bore you?
When rises month - star rejoice,
That brighten them walk on raised́besyu;
And that is in a cloud hides,
That headlong to the ground falls ...
Indecent as you, Kiribeevich,
The royal joy gnushatisya;
And because you're old Skuratov
And semeyu you suckled Malyutina!..»
Responsible so Kiribeevich,
King in Grozny are klanyayas:
"You are our Sovereign, Ivan!
Not measles you unworthy servant:
Heart hot not pour wine,
black thought - not zapotchevat!
But I have provoked - the will of the royal;
Command to execute, behead,
A burden it shoulders of heroic,
And itself to the damp earth she was going ".
And the king said to him Ivan:
"Yes, what about you dashing grieve?
Do not istersya your parchevoy caftan?
Do not be crumpled hat sable?
Do you have treasury poistratilas?
Ile serrated sword tempered?
Or horse limped, wrought evil?
Or you knocked down to a fist fight,
On the Moscow River, the son of a merchant?»
Responsible so Kiribeevich,
Shook his head kudryavoyu:
"Not born that hand Enchanted
Neither the old boyar, any merchant;
Argamak my steppe walks fun;
like glass, illuminated saber Vostro,
And on the feast day of thy mercy
We are not worse than the other outfit.
"As I sit down I'll go on a spirited horse
The Moscow reku ride,
Kushachkom tighten silk,
Zalomlyu cap on the flank barhatnuyu,
Black sable trimmed, –
At the gates stand at tesovyih
Red girl yes molodushki,
And admire, looking, whispering;
Only one did not looks, admires,
Striped veil closes ...
"At Holy Russia, our mother,
Can not found, not to find such a beautiful:
Goes smoothly - like swan;
She looks sweet - like honey;
Molvyt word - Nightingale poet;
Burn her cheeks ruddy,
As dawn in God's heaven;
blond braids, golden,
The bright braided tape,
Run over her shoulders, izvivayutsya,
With breast with a white tsaluyutsya.
In the family she was born merchant,
Prozыvaetsya Alёnoy Dmytrevnoy.