Serpent

Ah, otherwise in the old days The earth conjured with the heavens, Wonderful wonders were seen then, Wonderful miracles happened by themselves.

Forgetting the Golden Horde, The colorful roar of the Chinese plain, The winged serpent in the deserted garden Often hid at midnight in May.

Only the girls to see the moon Went out with a stately gait, He quickly picked one up, And soared, and rushed back.

How the copper armor sparkled, how it dazzled and burned under the predatory moon, How the measured cry flew with a silver ringing over the forested Russia:

"I have never met such beauties, swans, With such milky whiteness, Neither in an overseas country, nor in the East;

But not one has ever been In my magnificent palace, in Lagor - They die on the way, and the bodies I throw into the Caspian Sea.

To sleep at the bottom, among the sea monsters, Why is it dearer to them, madmen, Than in my mighty embrace On the solemn princely bed?

And sometimes I envy the fate Of a lad with a white shepherd's pipe In the meadow, where the maiden crowd Is so pleased with his courtship..."