Т. Шилова, Баллада о Сыновьях English Translation

In lands of mountains and blooming lowlands
The river flows, no one knows where it ends,
For sure, no land was more adorn,
It’s where all dreams and ballads are born.

The mountains’ voice called the journeys to start,
Three sons were leaving their hometown apart:
The first was strong, the second was smart,
And the third son was humble of heart.

The father said in the sad parting hours:
"In my embrace you’ve been growing like flowers
What dangers can await you there?
So be safe and secured by my prayer"

And it echoed in peaks
As if Someone there speaks:
“Don’t you waste all your treasures of soul
And the light of your love, and your goal”

The years wend by, could you keep them in hands?
In lands of mountains and blooming lowlands
The father met his dear sons
After so many sorrows had gone

The first son came as a valiant knight:
“My Lord, be proud, I’m a hero of might
All pow’r is mine and that’s the case
There is blood spilled along all my trace”

The second son brought exorbiant gifts:
“My Lord, be well, and forget all your thrifts
I’ve learned to turn their tears and sweat
Into my profit and people’s debt”

And it echoed in peaks
As if Someone there speaks:
“All your treasures of soul you have sold
For some glory and luster of gold”

The third son came, he fell down on his knees:
“I’ve gained no glory, forgive, Father, please
I tried to help, I spared my foes…”
As the Father then answered, it goes:

“Your soul’s as good as it is crystal clear
And though no fame on your way could appear,
You’ve kept my love, the love you’ve known,
It is you who inherits my throne”

And it echoed in peaks
As if Someone there speaks:
“You’ve been humble, your heart wasn’t stone,
That is why you inherit the throne”