Here spruce boughs are shivering under their weigh, And birdsí chirming is ill at ease here. You dwell in this spellbound wild wood, unaware Of any occasion to leave íere. Wither linen-like bird-cherry trees in a gale, Scatter lilacs their petals, like raining. All the same I will take you from here, away, To a palace where reed-pipes are ringing. Your realm has been hidden for thousands of years From me and the wide world by charmers. You donít think there is a more beautiful place Than this feral woodland, enchanted. Stay the growth void of dew by the break of the day, Be the Moon and the clouds in commotion, All the same I will take you from here, away, To a light tower-room viewing the ocean. On what day of week and at what time of day, Will you dare come warily out? And when, in my arms, will I take you away To where you will never be found? I will steal you, I will, if it is what you opt. If for naught so much pains has been wasted! Do, for instance, concede to a love in a hut, Come the palace and tower to be captured.
© Vyacheslav Chetin. Translation, 2009