cat at lukamore

Ruslan and Lyudmila by Alexander Pushkin (translated by Roger Clarke) PROLOGUEBy an arc of sea a green oak stands;to the oak a chain of gold is tied;and at the chain's end night and daya learned cat walks round and round.Rightwards he goes, and sings a song;leftwards, a fairy tale he tells. There's magic! It's a wood sprite's haunt-a rusalka sits among the boughs-on footpaths no one has exploredare tracks of beasts no one has seen-a hut stands there on chicken's legs,no windows in its walls, nor doors-unumbered wraiths stalk wood and dale-at dawn the ocean waves roll inand surge across the empty sands,while from the limpid waters stridesa troop of thirty champions,fine men, and their sea-tutor too-a kind's son passing by the waytakes prisoner an awesome tsar-up in the clouds for all to seeabove the sweep of woods and wavesa wizard hauls a warrior brave-a princess pines in prison there,a brown-haired wold her loyal page-a mortar in a witch's formmoves to and fro as if alive-frail Tsar Kashchey wilts by his gold.The place breathes Russia... recks of Rus! I was there once: I sipped some mead;I saw the green oak by the sea;I sat beneath it, while the cat,that learned cat, told me his tales.Once of those tales I still recall,and this I'll share now with you all... bitsy hacks by Sean S. LeBlanc

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