The music comes floating To them from the Volga, The girls now already Are dancing and singing, 480 The old Prince is watching them, Snapping his fingers. He wants to be nearer The girls, and he rises. His legs will not bear him, His two sons support him; And standing between them He chuckles and whistles, And stamps with his feet To the time of the music; 490 The left eye begins On its own account working, It turns like a wheel. "But why aren't you dancing?" He says to his sons, And the two pretty ladies. "Dance! Dance!" They can't help themselves, There they are dancing! He laughs at them gaily, He wishes to show them 500 How things went in _his_ time; He's shaking and swaying Like one on the deck Of a ship in rough weather. "Sing, Luiba!" he orders. The golden-haired lady Does not want to sing, But the old man will have it. The lady is singing A song low and tender, 510 It sounds like the breeze On a soft summer evening In velvety grasses Astray, like spring raindrops That kiss the young leaves, And it soothes the Pomyeshchick. The feeble old man: He is falling asleep now.... And gently they carry him Down to the water, 520 And into the boat, And he lies there, still sleeping. Above him stands, holding A big green umbrella, The faithful old servant, His other hand guarding The sleeping Pomyeshchick From gnats and mosquitoes. The oarsmen are silent, The faint-sounding music 530 Can hardly be heard As the boat moving gently Glides on through the water.... The peasants stand watching: The bright yellow hair Of the beautiful lady Streams out in the breeze Like a long golden banner....