[Marya]

Вот еще отличная дурацкая теория: для ее проверки нужно следующее: поэма А.С. Пушкина "Полтава" и поэма Дж.Р.Р. Толкина "Lay of Leithian". А теперь прочтите первые полторы строфы "Полтавы":
Богат и славен Кочубей.
Его луга необозримы;
Там табуны его коней
Пасутся вольны, нехранимы.
Кругом Полтавы хутора
Окружены его садами,
И много у него добра,
Мехов, атласа, серебра
И на виду и под замками.
Но Кочубей богат и горд
Не долгогривыми конями,
Не златом, данью крымских орд,
Не родовыми хуторами,
Прекрасной дочерью своей
Гордится старый Кочубей.

И то сказать: в Полтаве нет
Красавицы, Марии равной.
Она свежа, как вешний цвет,
Взлелеянный в тени дубравной.
Как тополь киевских высот,
Она стройна. Ее движенья
То лебедя пустынных вод
Напоминают плавный ход,
То лани быстрые стремленья.
Как пена, грудь ее бела.
Вокруг высокого чела,
Как тучи, локоны чернеют.
Звездой блестят ее глаза;
Ее уста, как роза, рдеют.

А теперь возьмем перевод на английский:

A King there was in days of old :
ere men yet walked upon the mould
his power was reared in cavern’s shade,
his hand was over glen and glade.
His shields were shining as the moon,
his lances keen of steel were hewn,
of silver grey his crown was wrought,
the starlight in his banners caught ;
and silver thrilled his trumpets long
beneath the star in challenge strong ;
enchantment did his realm enfold,
where might and glory, wealth untold,
he wielded from his ivory throne
in many pillared halls of stone.
There beryl, pearl and opal pale,
and metal wrought like fishes’ mail,
buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
and gleaming spears were laid in hoard -
all these he had and loved them less
than a maiden once in Elfinesse ;
for fairer than are born to Men
a daughter had he, Lúthien.

Such lissom limbs no more shall run
on the green earth beneath the sun ;
so fair a maid no more shall be
from down to dusk, from sun to sea.
Her robe was blue as summer skies,
but grey as evening were her eyes ;
‘twas sewn with golden lilies fair,
but dark as shadows was her hair.
Her feet were light as bird on wing,
her laughter lighter than the spring ;
the slender willow, the bowing reed,
the fragance of a flowering mead,
the light upon the leaves of trees,
the voice of water more than these
her beauty was and blissfulness,
her glory and her loveliness ;
and her the king more dear did prize
than hand or heart or light of eyes.

О как!