Source: A. M. Astakhova et al., Bylinas of Pechora and the Winter Shore
(Moscow and Leningrad, 1961), no. 84
Who would tell us, brothers, and old song,
Who would tell us an old song in an old style,
Who would sing, brothers, an ancient song,
Who would sing this song to the sound of a gusli?
It happened that in Little Galich,
It happened that in very wealthy Korela,
There lived the young boyar Dyuk Stepanovich
With his own dear mother,
With Amelfa Alexandrovna.
Dyuk Stepanovich then spoke to her:
"Hail to you, my beloved mother,
Darling Amelfa Alaxandrovna!
Please give me your dear blessing
To go to the capital city of Kiev,
To pay my respects to Prince Vladimir
And to Princess Apraxia."
His mother, Amelfa Alexandrovna, then spoke:
"Hail to you, my beloved child,
Young boyar, Dyuk Stepanovich!
Clashing mountains are on the path to that place,
Pecking birds are on the path to that place."
Dyuk Stepanovich then spoke to her:
"I have my Burushko-Kosmatushko,
I'm not afraid of the clashing mountains,
I'm not afraid of the pecking birds."
Then his mother gave him her blessing,
And he set out for the capital city of Kiev.
Dyuk Stepanovich approached,
He approached the clashing mountains,
The mountains barely parted -
Dyuk's Burushko galloped through them.
Dyuk approached the pecking birds,
The pecking birds barely spread their wings -
Dyuk's Burushko galloped past them.
Dyuk Stepanovich arrived,
He arrived in the capital city of Kiev,
He entered God's church,
He stood by the right choir.
The mass of Our Lord then ended,
Dyuk Stepanovich went outside,
He was invited to a feast at Prince Vladimir's.
Dyuk Stepanovich was walking along the pavement,
He glanced at his own boots,
Dyuk Stepanovich then spoke:
"Everything here isn't like it is at home,
The pavements are all made of wood,
And they haven't been sprinkled with sand,
I'll dirty my morocco leather boots."
He was invited to a feast of honor at Prince Vladimir's.
The young boyar Churila Plyonkovich
Was also then in capital Kiev.
Churila was walking through Kiev,
Churila was shading himself with a parasol.
Girls were watching him - all the fences were cracking,
Young married women were watching him - the windows were ringing,
Very old women were gnawing their crutches.
They seated Dyuk at oaken tables,
The tables were covered with embroidered tablecloths.
They offered Dyuk Stepanovich,
They offered him a goblet of green wine,
He drank half the goblet and poured the rest under the table.
He took kalach and bit off part of it,
He ate the upper crust and threw the lower part under the table.
Prince Vladimir spoke to him:
"Hail to you, young boyar,
Young boyar, Dyuk Stepanovich!
Why did you empty the goblet under the table?
Why did you throw the kalach under the table?"
Dyuk Stepanovich spoke to him:
"Everything with you in Kiev isn't like it is at home.
Your ovens in Kiev are made out of clay,
And your brushes are made out of pine needles,
The kalaches smell of pine.
With us in Little Galich,
In very wealthy Korela,
All our ovens are made out of tiles,
All our brushes are made out of silk.
Your vodka has become a little musty,
We soak our brushes in honey water,
Our vodka is kept in cellars,
It rocks in barrels on silver chains,
Our vodka never gets musty."
Then the young boyar Churila, Plyonko junior, spoke:
"Hail to you, Vladimir of capital Kiev!
The young boyar has boasted a little too much,
I advise you put him in prison
And to send some scouts to Galich."
Then they took Dyuk Stepanovich,
And they put him in prison.
Then the scouts were chosen,
Ilya Muromets was sent,
And Dobrynya Nikitich was also sent.
Our boyars got ready very quickly,
They started riding to Little Galich.
Dobrynya Nikitich set out riding
With the old Ilya Muromets.
They came out on Saracen Mountain,
And they looked through their silver spyglass.
The young Dobrynya Nikitich spoke:
"Hail to you, Ilya Ivanovich!
Little Galich is on fire."
Ilya Muromets then spoke:
"What should we say, young Dobrynya Nikitich,
Did Dyuk Stepanovich really send orders
That little Galish should be set afire?"
They rode up to Little Galich.
Everywhere the roofs on the houses were golden,
The golden roofs burned like fire.
They dismounted their good steeds
And tied their steeds to oaken posts.
Ilya and Dobrynya entered the white-stone palace.
They passed through the first hall,
An old woman was sitting there,
She was all dressed in silks from overseas.
Ilya Muromets then spoke to her:
"Greetings to you, Dyuk's mother."
The old woman spoke to him:
"I'm really not Dyuk's mother,
I'm really just Dyuk's kalach baker."
They entered a second hall,
An old woman was sitting there,
The woman was all dressed in silver.
Ilya Muromets then spoke to her:
"Greetings to you, Dyuk's mother."
The old woman spoke to him:
"I'm really not Dyuk's mother,
I'm really just Dyuk's nurse."
Dear Ilya Ivanovich then spoke to her:
"Please tell us then, Dyuk's nurse,
Where can we see Dyuk's mother?"
The old woman spoke to them:
"Dyuk's mother is still at mass."
After a little time had passed
Dyuk's mother then came home.
Three people led her under her arms,
She was all dressed in the finest pearls.
Along the pavement made of guelder rose
Carpets were spread before her,
The carpets were picked up after her.
When Dyuk's mother arrived,
Ilya Muromets paid his respects to her:
"Greetings to you, Dyuk's mother!
We've come to you to clear up something.
Your son boasted a little too much,
He boasted a little too much and now is sitting in prison."
Dyuk's mother spoke to him:
"Hail to you, my darling good youths!
Please come into my chambers."
She led them into the new dining hall,
In the dining hall the floor was made of crystal,
Live fish were swimming under the floor.
Dyuk's mother then poured them each
A goblet of overseas green wine,
When you drink one goblet, you want a second,
When you drink a second, you want a third.
Then Dyuk's mother took them
To show them her possessions.
Young Dobrynya Nikitich wrote,
Dobrynya wrote on a piece of paper,
Wrote in cursive on a piece of paper,
He wrote and counted harnesses for steeds,
He couldn't note down all the harnesses,
Dobrynaya didn't have enough paper.
Then Dyuk's mother spoke to them:
"Hail to you, my daring good youths!
Please tell this to your Prince Vladimir:
Let him sell the city of Chernigov for ink,
Let him sell the famous city of Kiev for paper,
And then let him send them to me to make an inventory."
Ilya and Dobrynya took their leave
From Dyuk's mother, from his mother,
And they set out for home to the capital city of Kiev.
They came to Prince Vladimir,
The bogatyrs told him what they had seen.
Then Dyuk Stepanovich was released,
They regaled him with green wine.
Churila, Plyonko junior,
Was quick-tempered and envious,
Churila spoke these words:
"Then let's make a great wager,
Not for one hundred rubles, not for a thousand,
But for our reckless heads.
Let's ride on our good steeds,
On our good steeds for twelve whole days,
Each day we'll change our steeds,
We'll change and vary our steeds."
Dyuk Stepanovich spoke,
He then spoke these words:
"My Burushko is the only steed I brought with me."
But Dyuk didn't refuse the wager.
He got up very early in the morning,
He went our in the cold dew
And led out his Burushko-Kosmatushko.
Burushko could change its coat.
Thus they rode for twelve whole days.
On the twelfth day they were supposed to jump
Across the deep Puchai River,
To jump across and back with one's steed.
Then Churila, Plyonko junior, jumped first -
Churila fell into the middle of the river.
Dyuk Stepanovich jumped second -
He jumped across and back -
He dragged Churila out by the hair.
Dyuk Stepanovich then spoke,
Then he spoke these words:
"Prince Vladimir of capital Kiev!
Will you order someone to chop off Churila's head?"
Then Prince Vladimir of capital Kiev spoke:
"Leave us Churila at least for memory's sake,
Don't chop off his reckless head."
But Churila was envious,
Then he spoke these words:
"Then let's go to God's churches,
Let's go there for twelve whole days,
And each day we'll change our clothing,
We'll change and vary our clothing."
Dyuk Stepanovich then spoke:
"Churila, I have only the clothes I brought with me."
But he didn't turn down the wager.
He sat down on a chair with leather straps,
Dyuk quickly wrote letters in cursive
To his dear own mother,
He sewed them up in saddle bags,
He dispatched his shaggy Burushko.
Burushko ran to Little Galich.
Then Amelfa Alexandrovna saw the horse,
Her dear son Dyuk Stepanovich wasn't there,
And then she started weeping bitterly.
She looked in the saddle bags,
She saw the letters in cursive,
She read the letters in cursive,
She packed some colorful clothing for Dyuk,
Changes of clothing for twelve whole days.
Then Dyuk Stepanovich and Churila
Set off for God's church.
Churila stood by the right choir,
Dyuk Stepanovich stood by the left choir.
The time for the twelfth day had come,
A multitude of people gathered.
When Churila, Plyonko junior, would fasten his buttons -
A youth would embrace a pretty maid,
When Churila would unfasten his buttons - they would kiss.
Then Churila glanced at Dyuk Stepanovich,
Then he thought that Dyuk had lost his reckless head.
Then the church service ended,
Dyuk Stepanovich took out his silken whip,
When Dyuk Stepanovich struck his buttons -
They road like fierce wild animals,
They hissed like creeping snakes.
Then all the people were knocked off their feet,
Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia barely left alive.
Then Prince Vladimir of capital Kiev spoke:
"Hail to you, young boyar, Dyuk Stepanovich!
You've outdone our Churila Plyonkovich."
Dyuk Stepanovich then spoke:
"Hail to you, Prince Vladimir of Capital Kiev!
Will you order someone to chop off Churila's reckless head?"
Vladimir of capital Kiev spoke:
"Leave us Churila at least for memory's sake."
Dyuk Stepanovich then spoke:
"Hey, Churila you young boyar's son!
Churila, you shouldn't associate with bogatyrs,
You should spend your time with Kievan women."
Dyuk said farewell to Prince Vladimir
And set off riding on his shaggy Burushko
To his mother Amelfa Alexandrovna.
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