Sonnet XXXVI by William Shakespeare (in English)

Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain,
Without thy help, by me be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect,
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which though it alter not love's sole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame,
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
   But do not so, I love thee in such sort,
   As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.

Jesuítas (século XIII) by Castro Alves (in Portuguese)

 Ó mês frères, je viens vous apporter mon Dieu,

Je viens vous apporter ma tête!

V. Hugo

(Châtiments)

Quando o vento da Fé soprava Europa,

Como o tufão, que impele ao ar a tropa

Das águias, que pousavam no alcantil;

Do zimbório de Roma — a ventania

O bando dos Apost'los sacudia

Aos cerros do Brasil.

Tempos idos! Extintos luzimentos!

O pó da catequese aos quatro ventos

Revoava nos céus...

Floria após na India, ou na Tartária,

No Mississipi, no Peru, na Arábia

Uma palmeira — Deus! —

O navio maltês, do Lácio a vela,

A lusa nau, as quinas de Castela,

Do Holandês a galé

Levava sem saber ao mundo inteiro

Os vândalos sublimes do cordeiro,

Os átilas da fé.

Onde ia aquela nau? — Ao Oriente.

A outra? — Ao pólo. A outra? — Ao ocidente.

Outra? — Ao norte. Outra? — Ao sul.

E o que buscava? A foca além no pólo;

O âmbar, o cravo no indiano solo,

Mulheres em 'Stambul.

Ouro — na Austrália; pedras — em Misora!. .

"Mentira!" respondia em voz canora

O filho de Jesus...

"Pescadores!... nós vamos no mar fundo

"Pescar almas p'ra o Cristo em todo mundo,

"Com um anzol — a cruz —!"

Homens de ferro! Mal na vaga fria

Colombo ou Gama um trilho descobria

Do mar nos escarcéus,

Um padre atravessava os equadores,

Dizendo: "Gênios!... sois os batedores

Da matilha de Deus."

Depois as solidões surpresas viam

Esses homens inermes, que surgiam

Pela primeira vez.

E a onça recuando s'esgueirava

Julgando o crucifixo... alguma clava

Invencível talvez!

O martírio, o deserto, o cardo, o espinho,

A pedra, a serpe do sertão maninho,

A fome, o frio, a dor,

Os insetos, os rios, as lianas,

Chuvas, miasmas, setas e savanas,

Horror e mais horror ...

Nada turbava aquelas frontes calmas,

Nada curvava aquelas grandes almas

Voltadas p'ra amplidão...

No entanto eles só tinham na jornada

Por couraça — a sotaina esfarrapada...

E uma cruz — por bordão.

Um dia a taba do Tupi selvagem

Tocava alarma... embaixo da folhagem

Rangera estranho pé...

O caboclo da rede ao chão saltava,

A seta ervada o arco recurvava...

Estrugia o boré.

E o tacape brandindo, a tribo fera

De um tigre ou de um jaguar ficava à espera

Com gesto ameaçador...

Surgia então no meio do terreiro

O padre calmo, santo, sobranceiro,

O Piaga do amor.

Quantas vezes então sobre a fogueira,

Aos estalos sombrios da madeira,

Entre o fumo e a luz...

A voz do mártir murmurava ungida

"Irmãos! Eu vim trazer-vos — minha vida...

Vim trazer-vos — Jesus!"

Grandes homens! Apóstolos heróicos!...

Eles diziam mais do que os estóicos:

"Dor, — tu és um prazer!

"Grelha, — és um leito! Brasa, — és uma gema!

Cravo, — és um cetro! Chama, — um diadema

Ó morte, — és o viver!"

Outras vezes no eterno itinerário

O sol, que vira um dia no Calvário

Do Cristo a santa cruz,

Enfiava de vir achar nos Andes

A mesma cruz, abrindo os braços grandes

Aos índios rubros, nus.

Eram eles que o verbo do Messias

Pregavam desde o vale às serranias,

Do pólo ao Equador...

E o Niagara ia contar aos mares...

E o Chimborazo arremessava aos ares

O nome do Senhor!...

Three Untitled Poems by José Thiesen (in Portuguese)

Uma borboleta passa
por minha janela -
o meu coração se alegra.

***

Crocita o corvo no parque,
folhas secas voam por mim -
teu coração me alegra.

***

Novo dia nasce, manhã amarela d'outono.
Dormes solto na cama e longe canta o galo vermelho.
Acordo-te com meu beijo azul.

"Mad Journey!" by Al Feldstein (in English)

art by Al Williamson, Frank Frazetta, and Roy Krenkel (Venusian landscape pages 6-7) -  Weird Fantasy #14 - I. C. Publishing Co., Inc., July-August 1952. 

“La belle au bois dormant” by Charles Perrault (in French)

Il était une fois un roi et une reine qui étaient si fâchés de n'avoir point d'enfants, si fâchés qu'on ne saurait dire. Ils allèrent à toutes les eaux du monde, voeux, pèlerinages, menues dévotions; tout fut mis en oeuvre, et rien n'y faisait. Enfin pourtant la reine devint grosse, et accoucha d'une fille: on fit un beau baptême; on donna pour marraines à la petite princesse toutes les fées qu'on pût trouver dans le pays (il s'en trouva sept), afin que chacune d'elles lui faisant un don, comme c'était la coutume des fées en ce temps-là, la princesse eût par ce moyen toutes les perfections imaginables.

            Après les cérémonies du baptême toute la compagnie revint au palais du roi, où il y avait un grand festin pour les fées. On mit devant chacune d'elles un couvert magnifique, avec un étui d'or massif, où il y avait une cuiller, une fourchette, et un couteau de fin or, garni de diamants et de rubis. Mais comme chacun prenait sa place à table. On vit entrer une vieille fée qu'on n'avait point priée parce qu'il y avait plus de cinquante ans qu'elle n'était sortie d'une tour et qu'on la croyait morte, ou enchantée. Le roi lui fit donner un couvert, mais il n'y eut pas moyen de lui donner un étui d'or massif, comme aux autres, parce que l'on n'en avait fait faire que sept pour les sept fées. La vieille crut qu'on la méprisait, et grommela quelques menaces entre ses dents. Une des jeunes fées qui se trouva auprès d'elle l'entendit, et jugeant qu'elle pourrait donner quelque fâcheux don à la petite princesse, alla, dès qu'on fut sorti de table, se cacher derrière la tapisserie, afin de parler la dernière, et de pouvoir réparer autant qu'il lui serait possible le mal que la vieille aurait fait.

            Cependant les fées commencèrent à faire leurs dons à la princesse. La plus jeune lui donna pour don qu'elle serait la plus belle du monde, celle d'après qu'elle aurait de l'esprit comme un ange, la troisième qu'elle aurait une grâce admirable à tout ce qu'elle ferait, la quatrième qu'elle danserait parfaitement bien, la cinquième qu'elle chanterait comme un rossignol, et la sixième qu'elle jouerait de toutes sortes d'instruments à la perfection. Le rang de la vieille fée étant venu, elle dit en branlant la tête, encore plus de dépit que de vieillesse, que la princesse se percerait la main d'un fuseau, et qu'elle en mourrait.

            Ce terrible don fit frémir toute la compagnie, et il n'y eut personne qui ne pleurât. Dans ce moment la jeune fée sortit de derrière la tapisserie, et dit tout haut ces paroles: "Rassurez-vous, roi et reine, votre fille n'en mourra pas: il est vrai que je n'ai pas assez de puissance pour défaire entièrement ce que mon ancienne a fait. La princesse se percera la main d'un fuseau; mais au lieu d'en mourir, elle tombera seulement dans un profond sommeil qui durera cent ans, au bout desquels le fils d'un roi viendra la réveiller."

            Le roi, pour tâcher d'éviter le malheur annoncé par la vieille, fit publier aussitôt un édit, par lequel il défendait à tous de filer au fuseau, ni d'avoir des fuseaux chez soi sous peine de mort. Au bout de quinze ou seize ans, le roi et la reine étant allés à une de leurs maisons de plaisance, il arriva que la jeune princesse courant un jour dans le château, et montant de chambre en chambre, alla jusqu'au haut d'un donjon dans un petit galetas, où une bonne vieille était seule à filer sa quenouille. Cette bonne femme n'avait point entendu parler des défenses que le roi avait faites de filer au fuseau.

-"Que faites-vous là, ma bonne femme?" dit la princesse.

-"Je file, ma belle enfant" lui répondit la vieille qui ne la connaissait pas.

-"Ha! que cela est joli" reprit la princesse, "comment faites-vous? Donnez-moi que je voie si j'en ferais bien autant."

Elle n'eut pas plus tôt pris le fuseau, que comme elle était fort vive, un peu étourdie, et que d'ailleurs l'arrêt des fées l'ordonnait ainsi, elle s'en perça la main, et tomba évanouie.

            La bonne vieille, bien embarrassée, crie au secours: on vient de tous côtés, on jette de l'eau au visage de la princesse, on la délace, on lui frappe dans les mains, on lui frotte les tempes avec de l'eau de la reine de Hongrie; mais rien ne la faisait revenir. Alors le roi, qui était monté au bruit, se souvint de la prédiction des fées, et jugeant bien qu'il fallait que cela arrivât, puisque les fées l'avaient dit, fit mettre la princesse dans le plus bel appartement du palais, sur un lit en broderie d'or et d'argent. On eût dit d'un ange, tant elle était belle; car son évanouissement n'avait pas ôté les couleurs vives de son teint: ses joues étaient incarnates, et ses lèvres comme du corail; elle avait seulement les yeux fermés, mais on l'entendait respirer doucement, ce qui montrait bien qu'elle n'était pas morte. Le roi ordonna qu'on la laissât dormir, jusqu'à ce que son heure de se réveiller fût venue.

            La bonne fée qui lui avait sauvé la vie, en la condamnant à dormir cent ans, était dans le royaume de Mataquin, à douze mille lieues de là, lorsque l'accident arriva à la princesse; mais elle en fut avertie en un instant par un petit nain, qui avait des bottes de sept lieues (c'était des bottes avec lesquelles on faisait sept lieues d'une seule enjambée). La fée partit aussitôt, et on la vit au bout d'une heure arriver dans un chariot tout de feu, traîné par des dragons. Le roi lui alla présenter la main à la descente du chariot. Elle approuva tout ce qu'il avait fait; mais comme elle était grandement prévoyante, elle pensa que quand la princesse viendrait à se réveiller, elle serait bien embarrassée toute seule dans ce vieux château.

            Voici ce qu'elle fit: elle toucha de sa baguette tout ce qui était dans ce château (hors le roi et la reine), gouvernantes, filles d'honneur, femmes de chambre, gentilshommes, officiers, maîtres d'hôtel, cuisiniers, marmitons, galopins, gardes, suisses, pages, valets de pied; elle toucha aussi tous les chevaux qui étaient dans les écuries, avec les palefreniers, les gros mâtins de basse-cour, et Pouffe, la petite chienne de la princesse, qui était auprès d'elle sur son lit. Dès qu'elle les eut touchés, ils s'endormirent tous, pour ne se réveiller qu'en même temps que leur maîtresse, afin d'être tout prêts à la servir quand elle en aurait besoin: les broches mêmes qui étaient au feu toutes pleines de perdrix et de faisans s'endormirent, et le feu aussi.

            Tout cela se fit en un moment; les fées n'étaient pas longues à leur besogne. Alors le roi et la reine, après avoir embrassé leur chère enfant sans qu'elle s'éveillât, sortirent du château, et firent publier des défenses à qui que ce soit d'en approcher. Ces défenses n'étaient pas nécessaires, car il crût dans un quart d'heure tout autour du parc une si grande quantité de grands arbres et de petits, de ronces et d'épines entrelacées les unes dans les autres, que bête ni homme n'y aurait pu passer: en sorte qu'on ne voyait plus que le haut des tours du château, encore n'était-ce que de bien loin. On ne douta point que la fée n'eût encore fait là un tour de son métier, afin que la princesse, pendant qu'elle dormirait, n'eût rien à craindre des curieux.

            Au bout de cent ans, le fils du roi qui régnait alors, et qui était d'une autre famille que la princesse endormie, étant allé à la chasse de ce côté-là, demanda ce que c'était que ces tours qu'il voyait au-dessus d'un grand bois fort épais; chacun lui répondit selon qu'il en avait ouï parler. Les uns disaient que c'était un vieux château où il revenait des esprits; les autres que tous les sorciers de la contrée y faisaient leur sabbat. La plus commune opinion était qu'un ogre y demeurait, et que là il emportait tous les enfants qu'il pouvait attraper, pour pouvoir les manger à son aise, et sans qu'on le pût suivre, ayant seul le pouvoir de se faire un passage au travers du bois. Le Prince ne savait qu'en croire, lorsqu'un vieux paysan prit la parole, et lui dit:

-"Mon prince, il y a plus de cinquante ans que j'ai entendu dire de mon père qu'il y avait dans ce château une princesse, la plus belle du monde; qu'elle devait y dormir cent ans, et qu'elle serait réveillée par le fils d'un roi, à qui elle était réservée."

            Le jeune prince à ce discours se sentit tout de feu; il crut sans hésiter qu'il mettrait fin à une si belle aventure; et poussé par l'amour et par la gloire, il résolut de voir sur-le-champ ce qu'il en était. A peine s'avança-t-il vers le bois, que tous ces grands arbres, ces ronces et ces épines s'écartèrent d'eux-mêmes pour le laisser passer: il marche vers le château qu'il voyait au bout d'une grande avenue où il entra, et ce qui le surprit un peu, il vit que personne de ses gens ne l'avait pu suivre, parce que les arbres s'étaient rapprochés dès qu'il avait été passé. Il continua donc son chemin: un prince jeune et amoureux est toujours vaillant. Il entra dans une grande avant-cour où tout ce qu'il vit d'abord était capable de le glacer de crainte: c'était un silence affreux, l'image de la mort s'y présentait partout, et ce n'était que des corps étendus d'hommes et d'animaux, qui paraissaient morts. Il reconnut pourtant bien au nez bourgeonné et à la face vermeille des Suisses qu'ils n'étaient qu'endormis, et leurs tasses, où il y avait encore quelques gouttes de vin, montraient assez qu'ils s'étaient endormis en buvant. Il passe une grande cour pavée de marbre, il monte l'escalier, il entre dans la salle des gardes qui étaient rangés en haie, l'arme sur l'épaule, et ronflants de leur mieux. Il traverse plusieurs chambres pleines de gentilshommes et de dames, dormant tous, les uns debout, les autres assis; il entre dans une chambre toute dorée, et il vit sur un lit, dont les rideaux étaient ouverts de tous côtés, le plus beau spectacle qu'il eût jamais vu: une princesse qui paraissait avoir quinze ou seize ans, et dont l'éclat resplendissant avait quelque chose de lumineux et de divin. Il s'approcha en tremblant et en admirant, et se mit à genoux auprès d'elle.

            Alors comme la fin de l'enchantement était venue, la; princesse s'éveilla; et le regardant avec des yeux plus tendres qu'une première vue ne semblait le permettre: "Est-ce vous, mon prince? Lui dit-elle, vous vous êtes bien fait attendre." Le prince, charmé de ces paroles, et plus encore de la manière dont elles étaient dites, ne savait comment lui témoigner sa joie et sa reconnaissance; il l'assura qu'il l'aimait plus que lui-même. Ses discours furent mal rangés, ils en plurent davantage: peu d'éloquence, beaucoup d'amour. Il était plus embarrassé qu'elle, et l'on ne doit pas s'en étonner; elle avait eu le temps de songer à ce qu'elle aurait à lui dire, car il y a apparence (l'histoire n'en dit pourtant rien) que la bonne fée, pendant un si long sommeil, lui avait procuré le plaisir des songes agréables. Enfin il y avait quatre heures qu'ils se parlaient, et ils ne s'étaient pas encore dit la moitié des choses qu'ils avaient à se dire.

            Cependant tout le palais s'était réveillé avec la princesse; chacun songeait à faire sa charge, et comme ils n'étaient pas tous amoureux, ils mouraient de faim; la dame d'honneur, pressée comme les autres, s'impatienta, et dit tout haut à la princesse que la viande était servie. Le prince aida la princesse à se lever; elle était tout habillée et fort magnifiquement; mais il se garda bien de lui dire qu'elle était habillée comme ma grand-mère, et qu'elle avait un collet monté: elle n'en était pas moins belle. Ils passèrent dans un salon de miroirs, et y soupèrent, servis par les officiers de la princesse; les violons et les hautbois jouèrent de vieilles pièces, mais excellentes, quoiqu'il y eût près de cent ans qu'on ne les jouât plus; et après souper, sans perdre de temps, le grand aumônier les maria dans la chapelle du château, et la dame d'honneur leur tira le rideau: ils dormirent peu, la princesse n'en avait pas grand besoin, et le prince la quitta dès le matin pour retourner à la ville, où son père devait être en peine de lui. Le prince lui dit qu'en chassant il s'était perdu dans la forêt, et qu'il avait couché dans la hutte d'un charbonnier, qui lui avait fait manger du pain noir et du fromage. Le roi son père, qui était bon homme, le crut, mais sa mère n'en fut pas bien persuadée, et voyant qu'il allait presque tous les jours à la chasse, et qu'il avait toujours une raison pour s'excuser, quand il avait couché deux ou trois nuits dehors, elle ne douta plus qu'il n'eût quelque amourette: car il vécut avec la princesse plus de deux ans entiers, et en eut deux enfants, dont le premier, qui fut une fille, fut nommée l'Aurore, et le second un fils, qu'on nomma le Jour, parce qu'il paraissait encore plus beau que sa soeur. La reine dit plusieurs fois à son fils, pour le faire s'expliquer, qu'il fallait se contenter dans la vie, mais il n'osa jamais lui confier son secret; il la craignait quoiqu'il l'aimât, car elle était de race ogresse, et le roi ne l'avait épousée qu'à cause de ses grands biens; on disait même tout bas à la cour qu'elle avait les inclinations des ogres, et qu'en voyant passer de petits enfants, elle avait toutes les peines du monde à se retenir de se jeter sur eux; ainsi le prince ne voulut jamais rien dire. Mais quand le roi fut mort, ce qui arriva au bout de deux ans, et qu'il se vit le maître, il déclara publiquement son mariage, et alla en grande cérémonie cherche la reine sa femme dans son château. On lui fit une entrée magnifique dans la ville capitale, où elle entra au milieu de ses deux enfants. Quelque temps après, le roi alla faire la guerre à l'empereur Cantalabutte son voisin. Il laissa la régence du royaume à la reine sa mère, et lui recommanda vivement sa femme et ses enfants: il devait être à la guerre tout l'été, et dès qu'il fut parti, la reine-mère envoya sa bru et ses enfants à une maison de campagne dans les bois, pour pouvoir plus aisément assouvir son horrible envie. Elle y alla quelques jours après, et dit un soir à son maître d'hôtel:

-"Je veux manger demain à mon dîner la petite Aurore".

-"Ah! Madame", dit le maître d'hôtel.

-" Je le veux", dit la reine (et elle le dit d'un ton d'ogresse qui a envie de manger de la chair fraîche), " et je veux la manger à la sauce-robert."

Ce pauvre homme, voyant bien qu'il ne fallait pas se jouer d'une ogresse, prit son grand couteau, et monta à la chambre de la petite Aurore: elle avait alors quatre ans, et vint en sautant et en riant se jeter à son cou, et lui demander du bonbon. Il se mit à pleurer, le couteau lui tomba des mains, et il alla dans la basse-cour couper la gorge à un petit agneau, et lui fit une si bonne sauce que sa maîtresse l'assura qu'elle n'avait jamais rien mangé de si bon. Il avait emporté en même temps la petite Aurore, et l'avait donnée à sa femme pour la cacher dans le logement qu'elle avait au fond de la basse-cour. Huit jours après, la méchante reine dit à son maître d'hôtel:

-"Je veux manger à mon souper le petit Jour."

Il ne répliqua pas, résolu de la tromper comme l'autre fois; il alla chercher le petit Jour, et le trouva avec un petit fleuret à la main, dont il faisait des armes avec un gros singe: il n'avait pourtant que trois ans. Il le porta à sa femme qui le cacha avec la petite Aurore, et donna à la place du petit Jour un petit chevreau fort tendre, que l'ogresse trouva admirablement bon.

            Cela avait fort bien été jusque-là, mais un soir cette méchante reine dit au maître d'hôtel: "Je veux manger la reine à la même sauce que ses enfants." Ce fut alors que le pauvre maître d'hôtel désespéra de pouvoir encore la tromper. La jeune reine avait vingt ans passés, sans compter les cent ans qu'elle avait dormi: sa peau était un peu dure, quoique belle et blanche; et le moyen de trouver dans la ménagerie une bête aussi dure que cela? Il prit la résolution, pour sauver sa vie, de couper la gorge à la reine, et monta dans sa chambre, dans l'intention de n'en pas faire à deux fois; il s'excitait à la fureur, et entra le poignard à la main dans la chambre de la jeune reine. Il ne voulut pourtant point la surprendre, et il lui dit avec beaucoup de respect l'ordre qu'il avait reçu de la reine-mère.

-"Faites votre devoir", lui dit-elle, en lui tendant le cou; "exécutez l'ordre qu'on vous a donné; j'irai revoir mes enfants, mes pauvres enfants que j'ai tant aimés"; car elle les croyait morts depuis qu'on les avait enlevés sans rien lui dire.

-"Non, non, Madame, lui répondit le pauvre maître d'hôtel tout attendri, vous ne mourrez point, et vous pourrez revoir vos chers enfants, mais ce sera chez moi où je les ai cachés, et je tromperai encore la reine, en lui faisant manger une jeune biche en votre place."

            Il la mena aussitôt à sa chambre, où la laissant embrasser ses enfants et pleurer avec eux, il alla accommoder une biche, que la reine mangea à son souper, avec le même appétit que si c'eût été la jeune reine. Elle était bien contente de sa cruauté, et elle se préparait à dire au roi, à son retour, que les loups enragés avaient mangé la reine sa femme et ses deux enfants.

            Un soir qu'elle rôdait comme d'habitude dans les cours et basses-cours du château pour y humer quelque viande fraîche, elle entendit dans une salle basse le petit Jour qui pleurait, parce que la reine sa mère le voulait faire fouetter, parce qu'il avait été méchant, et elle entendit aussi la petite Aurore qui demandait pardon pour son frère. L'ogresse reconnut la voix de la reine et de ses enfants, et furieuse d'avoir été trompée, elle commande dès le lendemain au matin, avec une voix épouvantable, qui faisait trembler tout le monde, qu'on apportât au milieu de la cour une grande cuve, qu'elle fit remplir de crapauds, de vipères, de couleuvres et de serpents, pour y faire jeter la reine et ses enfants, le maître d'hôtel, sa femme et sa servante: elle avait donné ordre de les amener les mains liées derrière le dos. Ils étaient là, et les bourreaux se préparaient à les jeter dans la cuve, Lorsque le roi, qu'on n'attendait pas si tôt, entra dans la cour à cheval; il était venu en poste, et demanda tout étonné ce que voulait dire cet horrible spectacle; personne n'osait l'en instruire, quand l'ogresse, enragée de voir ce qu'elle voyait, se jeta elle-même la tête la première dans la cuve, et fut dévorée en un instant par les vilaines bêtes qu'elle y avait fait mettre. Le roi ne put s'empêcher d'en être fâché, car elle était sa mère; mais il s'en consola bientôt avec sa belle femme et ses enfants.

Untitled Poem by José Thiesen (in Portuguese)

Quero estar onde estás,
falar com quem falas,
ver tudo o que tu vês.

Onde estou é tão triste,
pessoas mudas, cinza mundo,
tão diferente donde vives
tua vida dourada, sob a
vista benigna do Sol.

Queria ser um pouco feliz,
queria experimentar um pouco
de amor, um pouco ao menos,
de qualquer coisinha boa.

Mas toda a alegria se foi de mim e
meus olhos cegos procuram por ti,
e a solidão me consome a alma.

Há lodo em minha boca, correram
por mim os anos, sou velho e não
morro, sou um sonho inútil.

Um poço de anos, um
vaso de lágrimas, um
grito de dor - e não morro!

O amanhã, um vazio trevoso,
uma dor que se acumula
no futuro e se distribui hoje.

Meu corpo esfriou ,
o coração secou -
e não morro! O descanso do
esquecimento, meu por direito,
me é negado -
e não morro!

A luz de tua vida
te afasta das trevas
da minha e, sem ti,
minha treva aumenta.

Será isso parte do plano de Deus?
Para quê tanta dor, causada por amor?
Grande é Deus, pequeno sou eu e
para mim nada mais peço que o fim
da minha dor, essa dor que permance.

“Tsarevitch Ivan, the Fire Bird and the Gray Wolf” (translated into English by Post Wheeler)

 In a certain far-away Tsardom not in this Empire, there lived a Tsar named Vyslav, who had three sons: the first Tsarevitch Dimitri, the second Tsarevitch Vasilii and the third Tsarevitch Ivan.

            The Tsar had a walled garden, so rich and beautiful that in no kingdom of the world was there a more splendid one. Many rare trees grew in it whose fruits were precious jewels, and the rarest of all was an apple tree whose apples were of pure gold, and this the Tsar loved best of all.

            One day he saw that one of the golden apples was missing. He placed guards at all gates of the garden; but in spite of this, each morning on counting, he found one more apple gone. At length he set men on the wall to watch day and night, and these reported to him that every night there came flying into the garden a bird that shone like the moon, whose feathers were gold and its eyes like crystal, which perched on the apple tree, plucked a golden apple and flew away.

            Tsar Vyslav was greatly angered, and calling to him his two eldest sons, said: "My dear children, I have for many days sought to decide which of you should inherit my Tsardom and reign after me. Now, therefore, to the one of you who will catch the Fire Bird, which is the thief of my golden apples, and will bring it to me alive, I will during my life give the half of the Tsardom, and he shall rule after me when I am dead."

            The two sons, hearing, rejoiced, and shouted with one voice: "Gracious Sir! We shall not fail to bring you the Fire Bird alive!"

            Tsarevitch Dimitri and Tsarevitch Vasilii cast lots to see who should have the first trial, and the lot fell to the eldest, Tsarevitch Dimitri, who at evening went into the garden to watch. He sat down under the apple tree and watched till midnight, but when midnight was passed he fell asleep.

            In the morning the Tsar summoned him and said: "Well, my son, didst thou see the Fire Bird who steals my golden apples?" Being ashamed to confess that he had fallen asleep, however, Tsarevitch Dimitri answered: "No, gracious Sir; last night the bird did not visit thy garden."

            The Tsar, however, went himself and counted the apples, and saw that one more had been stolen.

            On the next evening Tsarevitch Vasilii went into the garden to watch, and he, too, fell asleep at midnight, and next morning when his father summoned him, he, like his brother, being ashamed to tell the truth, answered: "Gracious Sir, I watched throughout the night but the Fire Bird that steals the golden apples did not enter thy garden."

            And again Tsar Vyslav went himself and counted and saw that another golden apple was missing.

            On the third evening Tsarevitch Ivan asked permission to watch in the garden, but his father would not permit it. "Thou art but a lad," he said, "and mightest be frightened in the long, dark night." But Ivan continued to beseech him till at length the Tsar consented.

            So Tsarevitch Ivan took his place in the garden, and sat down to watch under the apple tree that bore the golden apples. He watched an hour, he watched two hours, he watched three hours. When midnight drew near sleep al most overcame him, but he drew his dagger and pricked his thigh with its point till the pain aroused him. And suddenly, an hour after midnight, the garden became bright as if with the light of many fires, and the Fire Bird came flying on its golden wings to alight on the lowest bough of the apple tree.

            Tsarevitch Ivan crept nearer, and as it was about to pluck a golden apple in its beak he sprang toward it and seized its tail. The bird, however, beating with its golden wings, tore itself loose and flew away, leaving in his hand a single long feather. He wrapped this in a handkerchief, lay down on the ground and went to sleep.

            In the morning Tsar Vyslav summoned him to his presence, and said: "Well, my dear son, thou didst not, I suppose, see the Fire Bird?"

            Then Tsarevitch Ivan unrolled the handkerchief, and the feather shone so that the whole place was bright with it. The Tsar could not sufficiently admire it, for when it was brought into a darkened room it gleamed as if a hundred candles had been lighted. He put it into his royal treasury as a thing which must be safely kept for ever, and set many watchmen about the garden hoping to snare the Fire Bird, but it came no more for the golden apples.

            Then Tsar Vyslav, greatly desiring it, sent for his two eldest sons, and said: "Ye, my sons, failed even to see the thief of my apples, yet thy brother Ivan has at least brought me one of its feathers. Take horse now, with my blessing, and ride in search of it, and to the one of you who brings it to me alive I will give the half of my Tsardom." And the Tsarevitches Dimitri and Vasilii, envious of their younger brother Ivan, rejoiced that their father did not bid him also go, and mounting their swift horses, rode away, gladly, both of them, in search of the Fire Bird.

            They rode for three days-whether by a near or a far road, or on highland or lowland, the tale is soon told, but the journey is not done quickly-till they came to a green plain from whose center three roads started, and there a great stone was set with these words carved upon it:

Who rides straight forward shall know both hunger and cold.

Who rides to the right shall live, though his steed be dead.

Who rides to the left shall die, though his steed shall live.

They were uncertain what to do, since none of the three roads promised well, and turning aside into a pleasant wood, pitched their silken tents and gave themselves over to rest and idle enjoyment.

            Now when days had passed and they did not return, Tsarevitch Ivan besought his father to give him also his blessing, with leave to ride forth to search for the Fire Bird, but Tsar Vyslav denied him, saying: "My dear son, the wolves will devour thee. Thou art still young and unused to far and difficult journeying. Enough that thy brothers have gone from me. I am already old in age, and walk under the eye of God; if He take away my life, and thou, too, art gone, who will remain to keep order in my Tsardom? Rebellion may arise and there will be no one to quell it, or an enemy may cross our borders and there will be no one to command our troops. Seek not, therefore, to leave me!"

            In spite of all, however, Tsarevitch Ivan would not leave off his beseeching till at length his father consented, and he took Tsar Vyslav's blessing, chose a swift horse for his use and rode away he knew not whither.

            Three days he rode, till he came to the green plain whence the three ways started, and read the words carved on tile great stone that stood there. "I may not take the left road, lest I die," he thought, "nor the middle road, lest I know hunger and cold. Rather will I take the right-hand road, whereon, though my poor horse perish, I at least shall keep my life." So he reined to the right.

            He rode one day, he rode two days, he rode three days, and on the morning of the fourth day, as he led his horse through a forest, a great Gray Wolf leaped from a thicket. "Thou art a brave lad, Tsarevitch Ivan," said the Wolf, "but didst thou not read what was written on the rock?" When the Wolf had spoken these words he seized the horse, and tearing it in pieces, devoured it and disappeared.

            Tsarevitch Ivan wept bitterly over the loss of his horse. The whole day he walked, till his weariness could not be told in a tale. He was near to faint from weakness, when again he met the Gray Wolf. "Thou art a brave lad, Tsarevitch Ivan," said the Wolf, "and for this reason I feel pity for thee. I have eaten thy good horse, but I will serve thee a service in payment. Sit now on my back and say whither I shall bear thee and wherefore."

            Tsarevitch Ivan seated himself on the back of the Wolf joyfully enough. "Take me, Gray Wolf," he said, "to the Fire Bird that stole my father's golden apples," and instantly the Wolf sped away, twenty times swifter than the swiftest horse. In the middle of the night he stopped at a stone wall.

            "Get down from my back, Tsarevitch Ivan," said the Wolf, "and climb over this wall. On the other side is a garden, and in the garden is an iron railing, and behind the railing three cages are hung, one of copper, one of silver, and one of gold. In the copper cage is a crow, in the silver one is a jackdaw, and in the golden cage is the Fire Bird. Open the door of the golden cage, take out the Fire Bird, and wrap it in thy handkerchief. But on no account take the golden cage; if thou dost, great misfortune will follow."

            Tsarevitch Ivan climbed the wall, entered the iron railing and found the three cages as the Gray Wolf had said. He took out the Fire Bird and wrapped it in his handkerchief, but he could not bear to leave behind him the beautiful golden cage.

            The instant he stretched out his hand and took it, how ever, there sounded throughout all the garden a great noise of clanging bells and the twanging of musical instruments to which the golden cage was tied by many invisible cords, and fifty watchmen, waking, came running into the garden. They seized Tsarevitch Ivan, and in the morning they brought him before their Tsar, who was called Dolmat.

            Tsar Dolmat was greatly angered, and shouted in a loud voice: "How now! This is a fine, bold handed Cossack to be caught in such a shameful theft! Who art thou, from what country comest thou? Of what father art thou son, and how art thou named?"

            "I come from the Tsardom of Vyslav," answered Tsarevitch Ivan, "son of Tsar Vyslav, and I am called Ivan. Thy Fire Bird entered my father's garden by night and stole many golden apples from his favorite tree. Therefore the Tsar, my father, sent me to find and bring to him the thief."

            "And how should I know that thou speakest truth?" answered Tsar Dolmat. "Hadst thou come to me first I would have given thee the Fire Bird with honor. How will it be with thee now when I send into all Tsardoms, declaring how thou hast acted shamefully in my borders? However, Tsarevitch Ivan, I will excuse thee this if thou wilt serve me a certain service. If thou wilt ride across three times nine countries to the thirtieth Tsardom of Tsar Afron, and wilt win for me from him the Horse with the Golden Mane, which his father promised me and which is mine by right, then will I give to thee with all joy the Fire Bird. But if thou dost not serve me this service, then will I declare throughout all Tsardoms that thou art a thief, unworthy to share thy father's honors."

            Tsarevitch Ivan went out from Tsar Dolmat in great grief. He found the Gray Wolf and related to him the whole.

            "Thou art a foolish youth Tsarevitch Ivan," said the Wolf. "Why didst thou not recall my words and leave the golden cage?"

            "I am guilty before thee!" answered Ivan sorrowfully.

            "Well," said the Gray Wolf, "I will help thee. Sit on my back, and say whither I shall bear thee and wherefore."

            So Tsarevitch Ivan a second time mounted the Wolf's back. "Take me, Gray Wolf," he said, "across three times nine countries to the thirtieth Tsardom, to Tsar Afron's Horse with the Golden Mane." At once the Wolf began running, fifty times swifter than the swiftest horse. Whether it was a long way or a short way, in the middle of the night he came to the thirtieth Tsardom, to Tsar Afron's Palace, and stopped beside the royal stables, which were built all of white stone.

            "Now, Tsarevitch Ivan," said the Wolf, "get down from my back and open the door. The stablemen are all fast asleep, and thou mayest win the Horse with the Golden Mane. Only take not the golden bridle that hangs beside it. If thou takest that, great ill will befall thee."

            Tsarevitch Ivan opened the door of the stables and there he saw the Horse with the Golden Mane, whose brightness was such that the whole stall was lighted by it. But as he was leading it out he saw the golden bridle, and its beauty tempted him to take it also. Scarcely had he touched it, however, when there arose a great clanging and thundering, for the bridle was tied by many cords to instruments of brass. The noise awakened the stablemen, who came running, a hundred of them, and seized Tsarevitch Ivan, and in the morning led him before Tsar Afron.

            The Tsar was much surprised to see so gallant a youth accused of such a theft. "What!" he said. "Thou art a goodly lad to be a robber of my horses. Tell me from what Tsardom dost thou come, son of what father art thou, and what is thy name?"

            "I come from the Tsardom of Tsar Vyslav," replied Tsarevitch Ivan, "whose son I am, and my name is Ivan. Tsar Dolmat laid upon me this service, that I bring him the Horse with the Golden Mane, which thy father promised him and which is his by right."

            "Hadst thou come with such a word from Tsar Dolmat," answered Tsar Afron, "I would have given thee the horse with honor, and thou needst not have taken it from me by stealth. How will it be with thee when I send my heralds into all Tsardoms declaring thee, a Tsar's son, to be a thief? However, Tsarevitch Ivan, I will excuse thee this if thou wilt serve me a certain service. Thou shalt ride over three times nine lands to the country of the Tsar whose daughter is known as Helen the Beautiful, and bring me the Tsarevna to be my wife. For I have loved her for long with my soul and my heart, and yet cannot win her. Do this and I will forgive thee this fault and with joy will give thee the Horse with the Golden Mane and the golden bridle also for Tsar Dolmat. But if thou dost not serve me this service, then will I name thee as a shameful thief in all Tsardoms."

            Tsarevitch Ivan went out from the splendid Palace weeping many tears, and came to the Gray Wolf and told him all that had befallen.

            "Thou hast again been a foolish youth," said the Wolf. "Why didst thou not remember my warning not to touch the golden bridle?"

            "Gray Wolf," said Ivan, still weeping, "I am guilty be fore thee!"

            "Well," said the Wolf, "be it so. I will help thee. Sit upon my back and say whither I shall bear thee and wherefore."

            So Tsarevitch Ivan wiped away his tears and a third time mounted the Wolf's back. "Take me, Gray Wolf," he said, "across three times nine lands to the Tsarevna who is called Helen the Beautiful." And straightway the Wolf began running, a hundred times swifter than the swiftest horse, faster than one can tell in a tale, until he came to the country of the beautiful princess. At length he stopped at a golden railing surrounding a lovely garden.

            "Get down now, Tsarevitch Ivan," said the Wolf; "go back along the road by which we came, and wait for me in the open field under the green oak tree." So Tsarevitch Ivan did as he was bidden. But as for the Gray Wolf, he waited there.

            Toward evening, when the sun was very low and its rays were no longer hot, the Tsar's daughter, Helen the Beautiful, went into the garden to walk with her nurse and the ladies-in-waiting of the Court. When she came near, suddenly the Gray Wolf leaped over the railing into the garden, seized her and ran off with her more swiftly than twenty horses. He ran to the open field, to the green oak tree where Tsarevitch Ivan was waiting, and set her down beside him. Helen the Beautiful had been greatly frightened, but dried her tears quickly when she saw the handsome youth.

            "Mount my back, Tsarevitch Ivan," said the Wolf, "and take the Tsarevna in your arms."

            Tsarevitch Ivan sat on the Gray Wolf's back and took Helen the Beautiful in his arms, and the Wolf began run- fling more swiftly than fifty horses, across the three times nine countries, back to the Tsardom of Tsar Afron. The nurse and ladies-in-waiting of the Tsarevna hastened to the Palace, and the Tsar sent many troops to pursue them, but fast as they went they could not overtake the Gray Wolf.

            Sitting on the Wolf's back, with the Tsar's beautiful daughter in his arms, Tsarevitch Ivan began to love her with his heart and soul, and Helen the Beautiful began also to love him, so that when the Gray Wolf came to the country of Tsar Afron, to whom she was to be given, Tsarevitch Ivan began to shed many tears.

            "Why dost thou weep, Tsarevitch Ivan?" asked the Wolf, and Ivan answered: "Gray Wolf, my friend! Why should I not weep and be desolate? I myself have begun to love Helen the Beautiful, yet now I must give her up to Tsar Afron for the Horse with the Golden Mane. For if I do not, then Tsar Afron will dishonor my name in all countries."

            "I have served thee in much, Tsarevitch Ivan," said the Gray Wolf, "but I will also do thee this service. Listen. When we come near to the Palace, I myself will take the shape of the Tsar's daughter, and thou shalt lead me to Tsar Afron, and shalt take in exchange the Horse with the Golden Mane. Thou shalt mount him and ride far away. Then I will ask leave of Tsar Afron to walk on the open steppe, and when 1 am on the steppe with the Court ladies-in-waiting, thou hast only to think of me, the Gray Wolf, and I shall come once more to thee."

            As soon as the Wolf had uttered these words, he beat his paw against the damp ground and instantly he took the shape of the Tsar's beautiful daughter: so like to her that no one in the world could have told that he was not the Tsarevna herself. Then, bidding Helen the Beautiful wait for him outside the walls, Tsarevitch Ivan led the Gray Wolf into the Palace to Tsar Afron.

            The Tsar, thinking at last he had won the treasure he had so long desired as his wife, was very joyful, and gave Tsarevitch Ivan, for Tsar Dolmat, the Horse with the Golden Mane and the golden bridle. And Tsarevitch Ivan, mounting, rode outside the walls to the real Helen the Beautiful, put her before him on the saddle and set out across the three times nine countries back to the Tsardom of Tsar Dolmat.

            As to the Gray Wolf, he spent one day, he spent two days, he spent three days in Tsar Afron's Palace, all the while having the shape of the beautiful Tsarevna, while the Tsar made preparations for a splendid bridal. On the fourth day he asked the Tsar's permission to go for a walk on the open steppe.

            "Oh, my beautiful Tsar's daughter," said Tsar Afron, "I grant thee whatever thou mayst wish. Go then and walk where it pleaseth thee, and perchance it will soothe thy grief and sorrow at parting from thy father." So he ordered serving-women and all the ladies-in-waiting of the Court to walk with her.

            But all at once, as they walked on the open steppe, Tsarevitch Ivan, far away, riding with the real Helen the Beautiful on the Horse with the Golden Mane, suddenly be thought himself and cried: "Gray Wolf, Gray Wolf, I am thinking of thee now. Where art thou?" At that very instant the false Princess, as she walked with the ladies-in-waiting of Tsar Afron's Court, turned into the Gray Wolf, which ran off more swiftly than seventy horses. The ladies-in waiting hastened to the Palace and Tsar Afron sent many soldiers in pursuit, but they could not catch the Gray Wolf and soon he overtook Tsarevitch Ivan.

            "Mount on my back, Tsarevitch Ivan," said the Wolf, "and let Helen the Beautiful ride on the Horse with the Golden Mane."

            Tsarevitch Ivan mounted the Gray Wolf, and the Tsarevna rode on the Horse with the Golden Mane, and so they went on together to the Tsardom of Tsar Dolmat, in whose garden hung the cage with the Fire Bird. Whether the way was a long one or a short one, at length they came near to Tsar Dolmat's Palace. Then Tsarevitch Ivan, getting down from the Wolf's back, said:

            "Gray Wolf, my dear friend! Thou hast served me many services. Serve me also one more, the last and greatest. If thou canst take the shape of Helen the Beautiful, thou canst take also that of this Horse with the Golden Mane. Do this and let me deliver thee to Tsar Dolmat in exchange for the Fire Bird. Then, when I am far away on the road to my own Tsardom, thou canst again rejoin us."

            "So be it," said the Wolf and beat his paw against the dry ground, and immediately he took the shape of the Horse with the Golden Mane, so like to that the Princess rode that no one could have told one from the other. Then Tsarevitch Ivan, leaving Helen the Beautiful on the green lawn with the real Horse with the Golden Mane, mounted arid rode to the Palace gate.

            When Tsar Dolmat saw Tsarevitch Ivan riding on the false Horse with the Golden Mane he rejoiced exceedingly. He came out, embraced Ivan in the wide courtyard and kissed him on the mouth, and taking his right hand, led him into his splendid rooms. He made a great festival, and they sat at oak tables covered with embroidered cloths and for two days ate, drank and made merry. On the third day the Tsar gave to Tsarevitch Ivan the Fire Bird in its golden cage. Ivan took it, went to the green lawn where he had left Helen the Beautiful, mounted the real Horse with the Golden Mane, set the Tsarevna on the saddle before him, and together they rode away across the three times nine lands towards his native country, the Tsardom of Tsar Vyslav.

            As to Tsar Dolmat, for two days he admired the false Horse with the Golden Mane, and on the third day he de sired to ride him. He gave orders, therefore, to saddle him, and mounting, rode to the open steppe. But as he was riding, it chanced that Tsarevitch Ivan, far away with Helen the Beautiful, all at once remembered his promise and cried:

            "Gray Wolf, Gray Wolf, I am thinking of thee!" And at that instant the horse Tsar Dolmat rode threw the Tsar from his back and turned into the Gray Wolf, which ran off more swiftly than a hundred horses.

            Tsar Dolmat hastened to the Palace and sent many soldiers in pursuit, but they could not catch the Gray Wolf, who soon overtook the Horse with the Golden Mane that bore Tsarevitch Ivan and the Tsarevna.

            "Get down, Tsarevitch Ivan," said the Wolf; "mount my back and let Helen the Beautiful ride on the Horse with the Golden Mane."

            So Tsarevitch Ivan mounted the Gray Wolf and the Tsarevna rode on the Horse with the Golden Mane, and at length they came to the forest where the Wolf had devoured Tsarevitch Ivan's horse.

            There the Gray Wolf stopped. "Well, Tsarevitch Ivan," he said, "I have paid for thy horse, and have served thee in faith and truth. Get down now; I am no longer thy servant."

            Tsarevitch Ivan got down from the Wolf's back, weeping many tears that they should part, and the Gray Wolf leaped into a thicket and disappeared, leaving Tsarevitch Ivan, mounted on the Horse with the Golden Mane, with Helen the Beautiful in his arms who held in her hands the golden cage in which was the Fire Bird, to ride to the Palace of Tsar Vyslav.

            They rode on three days, till they came to the green plain where the three ways met, and where stood the great stone, and being very tired, the Tsarevitch and the Tsarevna here dismounted and lay down to rest. He tied the Horse with the Golden Mane to the stone, and lying lovingly side by side on the soft grass, they went to sleep.

            Now it happened that the two elder brothers of Ivan, Tsarevitch Dimitri and Tsarevitch Vasilii, having tired of their amusements in the wood and being minded to return to their father without the Fire Bird, came riding past the spot and found their brother lying asleep with Helen the Beautiful beside him. Seeing not only that he had found the Fire Bird, but a horse with a mane of gold and a lovely Princess, they were envious, and Tsarevitch Dimitri drew his sword, stabbed Tsarevitch Ivan to death, and cut his body into small pieces. They then awoke Helen the Beautiful and began to question her.

            "Lovely Tsarevna," they asked, "from what Tsardom dost thou come, of what father art thou daughter, and how art thou named?"

            Helen the Beautiful, being roughly awakened, and seeing Tsarevitch Ivan dead, was greatly frightened and cried with bitter tears: "I am the Tsar's daughter, Helen the Beautiful, and I belong to Tsarevitch Ivan whom ye have put to a cruel death. If ye were brave knights, ye had ridden against him in the open field; then might ye have been victorious over him with honor; but instead of that ye have slain him when he was asleep. What praise will such an act receive?"

            But Tsarevitch Vasilii set the point of his sword against her breast and said: "Listen, Helen the Beautiful! Thou art now in our hands. We shall bring thee to our little father, Tsar Vyslav, and thou shalt tell him that we, and not Tsarevitch Ivan, found the Fire Bird, and won the Horse with the Golden Mane and thine own lovely self. If thou dost not swear by all holy things to say this, then this instant will we put thee to death!" And the beautiful Tsar's daughter, frightened by their threats, swore that she would speak as they commanded.

            Tsarevitch Dimitri and Tsarevitch Vasilii cast lots to see who should take Helen the Beautiful and who the Horse with the Golden Mane and the Fire Bird. The Princess fell to Tsarevitch Vasilii and the horse and the bird to Tsarevitch Dimitri, and Tsarevitch Vasilii took Helen the Beautiful on his horse and Tsarevitch Dimitri took the Fire Bird and the Horse with the Golden Mane and both rode swiftly to the Palace of their father, Tsar Vyslav.

            The Tsar rejoiced greatly to see them. To Tsarevitch Dimitri, since he had brought him the Fire Bird, he gave the half of his Tsardom, and he made a festival which lasted a whole month, at the end of which time Tsarevitch Vasilii was to wed the Tsarevna, Helen the Beautiful.

            As for Tsarevitch Ivan, dead and cut into pieces, he lay on the green plain for thirty days. And on the thirty- first day it chanced that the Gray Wolf passed that way. He knew at once by his keen scent that the body was that of Tsarevitch Ivan. While he sat grieving for his friend, there came flying an iron-beaked she-crow with two fledglings, who alighted on the ground and would have eaten of the flesh, but the Wolf leaped up and seized one of the young birds.

            Then the mother crow, flying to a little distance, said to him: "O Gray Wolf, wolf's son! Do not devour my little child, since it has in no way harmed thee."

            And the Gray Wolf answered: "Listen, Crow, crow's daughter! Serve me a certain service, and I will not harm thy fledgling. I have heard that across three times nine countries, in the thirtieth Tsardom, are two springs, so placed that none save a bird can come to them, which give forth, the one the water of death, and the other the water of life. Bring to me two bottles of these waters, and I will let thy fledgling go safe and sound.

            But if thou dost not, then I will tear it to pieces and devour it."

            "I will indeed do thee this service, Gray Wolf, wolf's son," said the crow, "only harm not my child," and immediately flew away as swiftly as an arrow.

            The Gray Wolf waited one day, he waited two days, he waited three days, and on the fourth day the she-crow came flying with two little bottles of water in her beak.

            The Gray Wolf tore the fledgling to pieces. He sprinkled the pieces with the water of death and they instantly grew together; he sprinkled the dead body with the water of life and the fledgling shook itself and flew away with the she-crow, safe and sound. The Gray Wolf then sprinkled the pieces of the body of Tsarevitch Ivan with the water of death and they grew together; he sprinkled the dead body with the water of life, and Tsarevitch Ivan stood up, stretched himself and said: "How long I must have slept!"

            "Yes, Tsarevitch Ivan," the Gray Wolf said, "and thou wouldst have slept forever had it not been for me. For thy brothers cut thee to pieces and took away with them the beautiful Tsar's daughter, the Horse with the Golden Mane and the Fire Bird. Make haste now and mount on my back, for thy brother Tsarevitch Vasilii today is to wed thy Helen the Beautiful."

            Tsarevitch Ivan made haste to mount, and the Gray Wolf began running, swifter than a hundred horses, toward the Palace of Tsar Vyslav.

            Whether the way was long or short, he came soon to the city, and there at the gate the Gray Wolf stopped. "Get down now, Tsarevitch Ivan," he said. "I am no longer a servant of thine and thou shalt see me no more, but sometimes remember the journeys thou hast made on the back of the Gray Wolf."

            Tsarevitch Ivan got down, and having bade the Wolf farewell with tears, entered the city and went at once to the Palace, where the Tsarevitch Vasilii was even then being wed to Helen the Beautiful.

            He entered the splendid rooms and came where they sat at table, and as soon as Helen the Beautiful saw him, she sprang up from the table and kissed him on the mouth, crying:

            "This is my beloved, Tsarevitch Ivan, who shall wed me, and not this wicked one, Tsarevitch Vasilii, who sits with me at table!"

            Tsar Vyslav rose up in his place and questioned Helen the Beautiful and she related to him the whole: how Tsarevitch Ivan had won her, with the Horse with the Golden Mane and the Fire Bird, and how his two elder brothers had slain him as he lay asleep and had threatened her with death so that she should say what they bade.

            Tsar Vyslav, hearing, was angered like a great river in a storm. He commanded that the Tsarevitches Dimitri and Vasilii be seized and thrown into prison, and Tsarevitch Ivan, that same day, was wed to the Princess Helen the Beautiful. The Tsar made a great feast and all the people drank wine and mead till it ran down their beards, and the festival lasted many days till there was no one hungry or thirsty in the whole Tsardom.

            And when the rejoicing was ended, the two elder brothers were made, one a scullion and the other a cowherd, but Tsarevitch Ivan lived always with Helen the Beautiful in such harmony and love that neither of them could bear to be without the other even for a single moment.