Iltimos, kuting…
The Golden Cockerel
21-04-2016
With age, he grew less keen to fight, Desiring
his deserved peace: Struggle should stop; war's clamour cease. His down-trod neighbours saw their chance, And armed
with dagger, sword and lance, Attacked
his frontiers at will, Making
the old Tsar maintain still An army
of twelve thousand men, With
horses, weaponry, and then Appoint
highly-paid generals To guard
the kingdom's threatened walls. But, when they watched the west, 'twas sure The
eastern border, less secure Would be
where hostile troops appeared,The
danger greatest where least feared. Eastward
the generals sally forth, Only to
find that now the north Border is
where the danger lies. Tormented
thus, Tsar Dadon cries Hot tears
of rage. He cannot sleep. O'er land
foes stream; then from the deep. What is
life worth, when so assailed? In country far, and days long gone, There
lived a famous Tsar -- Dadon. When
young, his strength was held in awe By all
his neighbours: he made war Whenever
he declared it right. So, desperate, Dadon availed Himself
of magic, turning to A
sorcerer (and eunuch, too), Interpreter
of omens, stars, Bird-flights,
and such particulars. The
courtier, sent to call the sage, Implied
there'd be a handsome wage. Arrived
at court, the wise old man Disclosed
with confidence his plan: The
golden cockerel he drew Out from
his bag by magic knew Who would
attack, and when, and where, Enabling
generals to prepare. «Just
watch and listen», said the sage. Dadon
responded: «I engage, «If this
be so, to grant as fee «Whatever
you request of me.» «So, set
the cock, as weather-vane «Upon the
highest spire. Remain «Watchful,
attentive; he will show «You when
to arm, and where to go. «Superior
intelligence «Will
always be the best defence.» And so it proves: whenever threats Appear,
the faithful sentry sets His
crimson crest in that direction Whence
comes th'incipient insurrection. «Kiri-ku-ku»,
he cries, «Hear me, «And rule
long years, from worry free.» Discovered
once, and caused to flee, Then
thrice more routed, th'enemy Lose
heart, respect again the will Of Tsar
Dadon, their master still. And so it proves: whenever threats Appear,
the faithful sentry sets His
crimson crest in that direction Whence
comes th'incipient insurrection. «Kiri-ku-ku»,
he cries, «Hear me, «And rule
long years, from worry free.» Discovered
once, and caused to flee, Then
thrice more routed, th'enemy Lose
heart, respect again the will Of Tsar
Dadon, their master still. Rousing himself, old Tsar Dadon Declares
he'll send his elder son Southward,
whose army shall repel The foe
which that true cockerel Has there
disclosed. «Now back to bed| «The
enemy's as good as dead.» The Tsar
proclaims, «I too retire. «Fear
not. My spy's still on his spire.» Wars oft entail a news black-out: Was there
a victory? Or rout? Who has
prevailed? How stands the score Of dead?
And were ours less or more Than
theirs? No word for seven days The
Court's disquietude allays.Then, on the eighth, the cockerel's Loud cry
the peace again dispels. This time
his crimson comb points north. Dadon
ordains to sally forth His
younger son, leading a force, So rich
in armour, men and horse, That no
known foe could fail to yield, Such
weapons Dadon's troops now wield. They march; are gone. Silence profound Envelops
them, as though the ground Had
opened, as it did in truth, To
swallow up all Hamlin's youth When its
authorities displayed Indiff'rence
to a promise made. Ill omen! For another week The
golden cock's sharp close-clamped beak Swings
slowly round, clock-wise; and then Swings
just as slowly back again. But, when
the eighth day dawns, the bird Crows the
alarm. Grim-faced, a third Army the
Tsar himself leads out. Ahead, a
solitary scout, Follows
the blood-red setting sun. Dadon's
last campaign has begun. Long
nights and days the soldiers march: Frost
cramps their feet; then hot winds parch Their
throats. They seek, but find no trace Of
battles, of the bloody chase Of
fugitives, of funeral mounds. No
rallying cries, no trumpet's sounds Waft to
the ears of Tsar Dadon, As
puzzled, tired, he trudges on. Just when he's topped a mountain pass, Descending
valley-ward,... alas! What
frightful vision lies before Him:
scattered round a silken tent Lie those
two armies Dadon sent In his
defence. Now all are dead; And his
two sons, unhelmeted, Hold
swords plunged in each other's breast, Hatred in
four glazed eyes expressed. Oh, my dear children! Who has snared My
falcons? What magician dared Villainy
in their hearts to stir, To make
of each a murderer? His
soldiers raise such grievous groan It seems
the very mountains moan. But then the curtains of the tent Are flung
aside. The hands that rent Them,
diamond-ringed and braceleted, The
stately figure, noble head, Royalty's
redolence express.. A
Shamakhanskaya Princess She is,
who sees Dadon, and smiles. Her
beck'ning finger so beguiles Him that,
bewitched, his sons forgot The Tsar
accepts his destined lot: Her rule,
indeed her domination.He walks, surrendering his nation, Into the
silken-wall'ed tent, Wherein
his next eight nights are spent In (who
can doubt?) those rites of passion To detail
which is out of fashion, Feasting
'tween-times on everything Our chefs
declare «fit for a king». At last begins the homeward course. The
maiden, mounted on his horse, Caresses
the still-love-sick Tsar. The
soldiers grumble; yet they are Eager to
tell their waiting friends (With
what imagination lends Their
memories) fantastic stuff And
nonsense. Sure, they've seen enough! Rumours have reached the capital Before
them. At its drawbridge, all The
people wait in trepidation To see
the ruler of the nation Approaching
with his new consort, Of whom
men variously report She is a
witch, a whore, a queen. Never
before have such things been. They greet their Tsar. His grave salute Befits
his rank; but his acute Eye has
detected in the crowd That
eunuch-sage whose cockerel's loud Uproar
had saved the threatened state. «Approach,
old man,» Dadon invites, «I grant
whatever gift requites «You for
your golden cockerel «Whose
sentry-duty served so well.» «I just desire», the wizard says, «The
Shamakhanskaya Princess. «Come
now, my lady, we must leave». Th'astonished
Tsar cannot believe His ears.
«What? what? Take my princess? «And you
a eunuch! I confess «I never
heard a better joke. «But
seriously, when I spoke «Of
paying you right handsomely «I also
meant in reason. See, «I'll
give you half my treasury; «A
lordship; and, if lechery «Indeed
attracts you, all the whores «Whom you
can satisfy». With force The
wizard answers: «Satisfied «I'll be
only with her as bride. «Give me
the Shamakhan Princess. «I'll be
content with nothing less.»«Take
nothing then,» Tsar Dadon said. His
sword-swipe smote the old man dead.The crowd
was dumbstruck; but the maid, By this
aggression undismayed, Burst out
in laughter, peal on peal, As though
by laughing to reveal Her full
involvement in the plan To trick
and then destroy a man. The Tsar, though startled, deigns to smile. Then on, along the Royal Mile.The crowd begins a careful cheer, Until a whir of wings they hear And see a bird with lance-like beak, A golden bird, with feathers sleek, Dive at the Tsar, piercing his head. Dadon groans once, falls, and is dead.Where's she who was to be his queen? Vanished, as though she'd never been.The story's false; but in it lies Some truth, seen but by inward eyes.
Hozirgacha hech kim fikr bildirmagan!
