Images: Margarita Kareva
... the magus, brought before him, From beneath his ample frock
Drew a golden weathercock.
"Let this golden bird," he chanted,
"High atop the spire be planted,
And my clever Cockerel
Be your faithful sentinel.
...Behold, the curtains part
On the tent. . .The prize of maidens,
Queen of Shamakhan, in radiance
Lambent like the morning star,
Quietly salutes the Tsar.
Silenced by her brilliant gaze
Like a nightbird by the day's,
Numb he stands - her sight outstuns...
Now she looked at him, beguiling,
Swept a graceful bow and, smiling,
Took his hand and drew him on
To her tent came Tsar Dadon.
At her table did she seat him
"Just you give me what I won,
This young queen of Shamakhan,"
Piped the sage in former fashion.
"No!" the Tsar spat, in a passion!
...Gone the empress sight unseen,
Just as though she'd never been.
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