[KINDLE] ❆ The Song of Igors Campaign, An Epic of the Twelfth Century Author Anonymous – Fastfood-point-of-sale-2018.info

The Song of Igors Campaign, An Epic of the Twelfth Century The Song Of Igor S Campaign Is The Most Imaginative, Celebrated, And Studied Work Of Early Russian Literature It Describes A Chivalric Expedition Undertaken In The Late 12th Century By A Minor Prince In The Land Of Rus To Defeat, Against Overwhelming Odds, A Powerful Alliance In A Neighboring Territory The Anonymous Poet Who Chronicled This Adventure Packed Unprecedented Metaphorical Agility, Keenness Of Observation, And Fascinating Imagery Into The Lean And Powerful Tale Of The Doomed Campaign Discovered In The Late 18th Century And Only Narrowly Distributed, The Original Manuscript Was Destroyed In A Fire, Leading To Endless Debate About The Provenance And Authenticity Of The Extant Versions It Also Served As The Basis Of Borodin S Opera Prince Igor Translated By Vladimir Nabokov, The Verses That Constitute The Song Of Igor S Campaign Are Presented In Their Original Rhyme And Meter, And Nabokov S Extensive Annotations Provide Illuminations On All The Aspects Of The Text. Interesting read I do not usually read epic poems but this poem combined with the history it talks about made me want to read the book It is not a hard read, and the detailed explanation of the terminologies definitely helps I only wished that if the translated version wasrhythmic. Nabokov is typically self deprecating regarding his talents as a translator and a poet, but this unreadable poem is actually quite readble indeed I don t agree with him that it is among the best medieval poems, but it is an interesting his Nabokov translates this anti epic about a pompous prince who goes on an insignificant copycat campaign with his homies only to get blown out and captured Luckily, he escapes and makes it to Russia where the grass can grow green once again Whatever the point of this poem is, th Vladimir Nabokov s translation of Igor s defeat From early morn to eve,and from eve to dawn,tempered arrows fly,sabers resound against helmets,steel lances crack.In the field unknown, midst the Kuman land,the black sod under hooveswas sown with bonesand irrigated with gore.As grief they came upthroughout the Russian land.

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