Gamayun, the prophet bird

On endless waters' smooth expanse,

By sunset clad in purple splendour,

In Delphic tone she ever sings,

But cannot spread her weakened pinions...

She prophesies the Tartar yoke,

Its course of bloody executions,

And quake, and famine, and alarm,

The righteous' downfall, evil's power...

In dark primeval terror wreathed,

Her countenance aflame with passion,

She speaks; and prophecies resound

Through truthful lips with bloodstains clotted!