Song about Prince Prophetic Oleg

Перевод поэмы А.С. Пушкина. "Песнь о Вещем Олеге"
Prince Prophetic Oleg prepares to start а war,
He will revenge to unwise horde of khazars.
They attacked Russland as backstabber liars,
And khazarian lands will doom to destructions and fires.
Across the field, in Byzantium armor, with his faithful knights
Prince Oleg on favorite steed joyful and swiftly rides.
From dark dense forest toward the prince
An Inspired sorcerer walked.
Until old age, from his childhood since,
Only to Mighty Thunderer Perun he was faithfully served,
This mage - messenger of mysteries and fate,
All of his life divinated and prayed,
 Prince Oleg  was rode to wizard and asked:
“Please tell me, sorcerer, beloved by gods
What fate I destined for?
And how soon will rejoice my foes-neighbors,
When I Will be buried in barrow?
Speak me all truth, and do not be afraid:
In award you will take any horse from my herd. "
I am the volhv, we don’t afraid all lords,
And gifts from the kings do not need us.
Truthful and free our prophetic words,
And with will of the Gods unanimous.
All future years are lurking in haze;
But now I see way  of fate on your face.
Prince Oleg, remember my prophetic words:
For warrior - fame is a happiest way;
And now You ruler of lands and of wave;
Your shield now on the Byzantium gate;
Enemies envies this wonderful fate.
Nor waves of seas, no severe storms,
Nor axe and arrows, or dagger,
Not winds, and a time of disaster,
And even old age is powerless before;
Protects you from wounds of your mighty armor;
Invisible angel protects you from foe.
Your steed not afraid of a dangers and risks;
Submissive to will of its master,
Patiently stands under hostiles arrows,
Or bravely rushes in battle.
A cold and a battle for him no hedge...
But favorite steed will bring you your death."
Prince Oleg was chuckled, but his face and eyes
Has begun marred by sad thoughts.
Leaning on saddle, in deafening silence,
Prince sullenly climbed off his horse;
And saying goodbye to his faithful friend,
Prince strokes and rubs steed’s neck by his hand.
"My friend and servant, I speak you: Farewell;
In so many battles you served me well!
But moment has come when we sadly break up;
My foot will not set In your golden stirrup.
Farewell, solace and remember your lord.
My comrades, my squires, take steed into my herd,
Take care him royally, of my dear friend:
Cover him with woolen carpet and blanket;
Take him on meadow, feed selected grain;
Bathe him, and drink from the spring.
And squires prince’s faithful steed took away,
And prince on another horse was drew…

Prince prophetic Oleg feasting with warriors now,
Cups happily ringing on merry feast;
And hairs of feastings are white as a clearest snow.
They remember famous days of the past,
Campaigns that were glorious and tough,
And battles where they bravely fought…

Prince asked courters: "And Where is my friend?
Where now my steed, that I proud?
Is he healthy now? Is he riding fast?
he is playful and so high-spirited? "
And  hears the answer: on a hill grim and steep,
Long years, he’s sleeping everlasting sleep.
And Mighty Oleg sadly bowed his head
And thinking: "What false divination!
Was liar, was crazy old man your, wizard!
If I was refuse your prediction:
This day I could ride on a back of my steed!"
And now prince want steed’s bones to see.
And mighty Oleg swiftly rides from palace,
With Igor and noble courtiers,
They see - on hill at a Dnieper’s a coast,
Noble horses's lie whitened bones;
Long years they dusted, and washed by rains,
And winds shake old grasses again and again.
Prince sadly set foot on the skull of his steed,
And speaks: " Oh, lonely friend, you will now get sleep!
Old master lived longer than faithfully steed,
I'm now alive, and you now are dead.
At my funeral, it which near at hand
The axe of the priest will not sever your neck;
Your blood will not paint old grasses into red;
Your blood will not spill on my corpse and head!

That's where was lurked my predicted death!
That bones were hidden and dangerous threat!”
In that time from dead head of prince’s steed
Grave's snake with a hiss creeping out;
Around he's legs snake wrapped like a black band,
And the Prince screamed out from suddenly stung...

Gold bowls with foamed wine circulars
At sadly Prince Oleg's feast funeral;
Prince Igor and Olga are sitting on mound;
And knights are feasted on Dnieper’s strand;
They remember famous days of the past,
Campaigns that were glorious and tough,
And battles, where they bravely fought…