Borodino
By Mikhail Yurevich Lermontov,
translated from Russian by
Eugene M. Kayden
"But tell me, uncle, why our men
Let Moscow burn, yet fought again
To drive the French away?
I hear it was a dreadful fight,
A bitter war, by day and night;
That's why we celebrate the might
Of Borodino today."-
Yes, men were heroes in the past,
Not men like you, but on the last
The bravest in the field!
Their fate was hard, they bravely died,
And few came home by war untried.
We yielded Moscow, yet satisfied
It was God's will to yield.
Then long we suffered in retreat,
All keen the enemy to meet.
We muttered angry threats:
Why winter quarters? Why not reel
Them back at once? Or do we feel
We dare not let them have the steel
Of Russian bayonets?
We found at last a stretch of land
With plenty room to make a stand!
We built a strong redoubt.
We listened in the dark around,
Alert for every stir and sound;
Before the stars went out, we found
The french were thick about.
I had my cannon loaded tight.
I said: I'll get you in this fight,
My friend Mo'sieu! I say
No good for you to lurk and stall!
We'll stand against you like a wall,
And fight again, and give our all
To bring your kind to bay!
Two days in skirmishes went by.
But all the same we grumbled why
Lose time in trifling plays.
Our men kept saying left and right
It's time to buckle down and fight
It out! - The shadows of the night
Came down an field ablaze.
I dozed awhile , the guns beside,
And heard the French proclaim in pride
Their hoped-for victory.
Our camp lay still: I heard men fret
About a battered cap, or whet
A blade, or file a bayonet,
While grumbling angrily.
But when the morning came again,
Our camp awoke with marching men,
Their rattling guns ahead.
Our officer was bold and brave,
A loyal fellow. Yes, he gave
His life for all of us. His grave,
Among the nameless dead.
He called to us, with flashing eyes:
'For Moscow, for the fight! Arise!
For Moscow we shall die
Like all the rest in battle slain!'
We'll fight and die, we cried again!
And there, upon that bloody plain,
We kept our pledge to die.
O what a day! The Frenchmen came,
A solid mass, like clouds aflame,
Straight for our redoubt.
Their lancers rode with pennons bright;
Dragoons came on in all their might
Against our walls, and in the fight
They scattered in a rout.
Such wars, my lad, you'll never know!
Like shadows, banners rose, sank low,
And rose on rampart walls.
In hiss of fire, we fought until
Our hand became too weak to kill.
The dead and wounded lie a hill
Choked the flight of balls.
That day the French found out aright
The way our Russian lads will fight
And stand up in a war.
The earth shook lound as every breast;
Horses and men together pressed;
The fire of guns was like a vast
And never-ending roar.
Then darkness came. Each man was true
To fight at break of day anew,
All steadfast to the end.
'Twas then the roll of drums began.
The French fell back. We tended then
Our many wounds, and every man
Recalled a fallen friend
Yes, men were heroes in the past,
All daring fellows to the last
In deeds upon the field!
THeir fate was hard, they bravely died,
And few came home by war untried.
We yielded Moscow, yet satisfied
It was God's will to yield.
(1837)
POEM BORODINO, AUTHOR, LELRMONTOV, TO HONOR THE BRAVE MEN OF RUSSIA WHO STOOD THEIR GROUND AND DID NOT LET THE FRENCH GO INTO MOSCOW UNCHALLENGED.
I read through translation, it is horrible, words changed around, whole verses have been basically rewritten.