Ach! Plachu ja, gor'ko plachu ja, Yaroslavna's aria from Prince Igor

Ah, weep I, bitterly weep I,
Tears I pour to my dear one,
On the ocean I send, early in the mornings.
I, on the cuckoo bird that flies,
Will fly to the river Danube,
I will dip in the river Kayalu 
My sleeve trimmed with fur.
I will wash the prince's wounds
On his bloody body.

Oh you, wind, wind tempestuous,
Why are you in the field blowing?
The arrows of enemies you have blown
Onto the armies of the prince.
Why did you not blow, wind tempestuous,
Up under the clouds,
In the sea blue ships you protect.
Ah, why you, tempestuous wind,
In the field so long you  blew?
On whose grass did you scatter my happiness?
Ah, weep I, bitterly weep I,
Tears I shed to my dear one,
On the ocean I send, early in the mornings.
Ohm you Dnieper, my Dniepr wide,
Through rocky mountains to the Polovtsian lands
A road you have forged.
There in the camps of Sviatoslava,
To the distant army units
You protect, my wide, wonderful Dnieper,
Dnieper, our native Dnieper!

Return to me my dear one,
So I won't need to shed bitter tears,
To my dear one on the ocean
Not to send early in the mornings.

Oh, you sun, beautiful sun,
In the bright sky you shine,
You warm everyone,
You protect everyone
You please everyone,
Sun, sun, lovely sun!
Why did you, on the troops of the prince,
Sultry burning heat, burn them?

Why, in that desolate field,
Did you dry them so with thirst
And pull their bows so tight?

Translated by Rufina Anatolevna-James (rufina@pacbell.net)