Alexander Blok

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.