Princess-girl is crying with her face pale, blank.

Pretty girl has chanted loves me - loves me not,

The unwoven flowers down the river float.

She is not to marry later in the spring,

Goblin has foretold a very frightening thing.

Mice have stripped the birch-tree of the bark, so hard,

They have frightened girlie out of the yard.

Horses fight, so threateningly jerking their heads,

Ah, dark hair is what goblin really hates.

Incense smell is coming from the nearby groves,

Loud winds are singing their dirge-like songs.

On the river bank she sadly walks around,

As the foamy wave is spinning her a shroud.

1914 Sergey Yesenin