On the way to the house in the spring
Flew and fluttered the crosswise wind
And the golden bell also would ring.

At the porch she stood with a smile
Looking for the door ring for a while
And she would not dare lift her eye.

And she vanished in distance blue,
Where spring vapors circled and flew
Where with sadness the woods were imbued.

In a distant birch circle, old man
From the birch tree an arc made
And upon the meadow he aimed.

Jumped upon a stump and then cried
"You, my beauty, come to me tonight!
You are lonely and sad in your quiet!"

At the gnarled fingers she tugged,
With a green beard them she bound
And like forest fog soared beyond.

Thus they all miss the same thing,
Thus they fly on every evening,
Thus the sorcerer wedded the spring.

By Alexander Blok
Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
http://geocities.ws/ilya_shambat2005

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)