Prezentare video cu titraj în limba engleză după traducerea lui Andrei Bantas, realizată de George Grama, în interpretarea lui Mhail Stan

A prince of the East, with good hunting in love,
through dark heart of forest was threading his way.
Although through the thickets twas painful to move
he played on his bone flute and his men hed pray:
Come over, to hunt, in the forests untrodden,
the wild boar with silvery fangs, deadly fierce,
its hoof, fur and vitreous eyes, apt to pierce.

Dear Lord, said his servants and buglemen tame,
that wild boar does never to this place repair.
Lets rather bring this way the richantlered game,
or reddishfurred fox, or some little field hare

His highness, however, passed on with a smile
and looked through the trees with an eye for the hues,
while sparing the sleep of the doe without guile
and lynxes whose eyes always sparkle with ruse.

Mong hornbeams he trod evil weeds to the ground:
Behold! Signs are made in our close neighbourhood!
The silver boars calling, while prowling around.
Come over, lets hit him with arrows of wood!

But Lord, its just water at play under trees.
a beater protested, his shrewd glance a bore.
Yet turning, his highness replied just Hush please!
And water kept sparkling like fangs of a boar.

Mong elms he would urge on his scattering train;
Just look how the silverfanged boar, lonley scion,
is snorting and routing the grass in the plain!
Come over lets hit him with arrows of iron!

But Lord, its just grass which is rustling mong trees,
the servant put in with a smile — bold and raw.
The prince would insist, though, and answer Hush please!
The grass was now sparkling like fangs of a boar,
Mong firtrees he urged them to climb to the crest:
Just look at the fairytale boar and admire
the silverfanged beings abode, haunt and nest!

But Lord, its the moon that is beaming through trees,
the underling laughed and despised him een more.
Yet, turning, his highness replied just Hush please!
The moon was now sparkling like fangs of a boar.

But woe! As pale luminaries of the vault
watched over the prince, on him pounced at a thrust
a huge boar whose fangs, in a savage assault,
soon dragged the prince down through the reddishbrown dust.

What could be the strange beast that stains me with gore,
thus stopping the chase for my silverfanged boar?
What bird in the moon can be weeping so sore?
What sere leaf keeps flapping at me ever more?

Oh Lord! Its the silvery boars fangs which glisten!
Its he that has caught you and grunts under trees.
Youll hear now the hounds have at him, if you listen!
Yet turning, his highness replied just Hush please!
But pick up your horn and with never a stop,
Sound up to the clear sky until Ive died, blow!

Twas then that the moon set behind a hill top.
Indeed the horn blew, but soon ceased sounding, though.