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# Ruslan's Battle with the Head
- URL: https://theparnassian.com/en/boi-ruslana-s-golovoi/
- Published: 2023-11-12T08:01:32.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-01T09:22:34.000Z
- Author: Alexandr Radayev
- Tags: Art, Books

Ruslan's Battle with the Head. Nikolai Ge, Ivan Kramskoy.

*Pensive rides our Ruslan* 
*And sees: through the night mist* 
*Far off a huge hill looms black,* 
*And something dreadful snores.* 
*He draws nearer to the hill, nearer, and hears:* 
*The marvellous hill seems to breathe.* 
*Ruslan listens and gazes* 
*Undaunted, with a tranquil spirit;* 
*But, twitching a fearful ear,* 
*His horse balks, trembles,* 
*Shakes its stubborn head,* 
*And its mane rises on end.* 
*Suddenly the hill, palely lit* 
*In the mist by the cloudless moon,* 
*Grows clear; the brave prince looks,* 
*And sees a marvel before him.* 
*Shall I find colours and words?* 
*Before him is a living head.* 
*Enormous eyes are bound in sleep;* 
*It snores, swaying its plumed helmet,* 
*And the feathers in the dark heights,* 
*Like shadows, move, fluttering.* 
*In its terrible beauty* 
*Towering over the gloomy steppe,* 
*Surrounded by silence,* 
*Warden of the nameless wilderness,* 
*It stands before Ruslan,* 
*A vast mass, menacing and misty.* 
*In perplexity he wishes* 
*To break the mysterious sleep.* 
*Examining the wonder at close quarters,* 
*He rode all round the head* 
*And stopped silently before its nose;* 
*He tickles its nostrils with his spear,* 
*And, wrinkling up, the head yawned,* 
*Opened its eyes and sneezed…* 
*A whirlwind rose, the steppe shook,* 
*Dust flew up; from lashes, from moustache,* 
*From brows a flock of owls flew off;* 
*The silent groves awoke,* 
*The echo sneezed; the spirited horse* 
*Neighed, leapt, sprang away,* 
*The knight himself barely kept his seat,* 
*And a noisy voice rang out behind:* 
*"Where are you off to, reckless knight?* 
*Go back, I am not joking!* 
*I'll swallow the insolent fellow in one gulp!"* 
*Ruslan looked back with disdain,* 
*Held in his horse with the reins* 
*And smiled with a proud air.* 
*"What do you want from me?"* 
*Frowning, the head cried out,* 
*"Fate has sent me a fine guest!* 
*Listen, be gone!* 
*I want to sleep, it is night now,* 
*Farewell!"*

*Literal translation*

A. S. Pushkin, *Ruslan and Lyudmila*

![](https://theparnassian.com/content/images/2026/09/photo_10338@12-11-2023_11-01-32.jpg)