In The Woods

In the woods, in the woods voices boom,
On the string-branches whispers play stealing,
And, dressed in the charms of the moon,
On the hillock of down stand trunk-needles.

Each shadow, each shadow, askew,
Like a faint speck beside the trunk drowses,
And, clothed in a necklace of dew,
Velvet frame of the moss lies around them.

D’you hear songs, d’you hear songs far below,
Which from the wood-elf’s verge flow there?
And poppy-fires crimsonly glow;
Do not go; it is treason to go there.

Come to me, come to me in my tent!
Arbour sends under tree stumps its rays there,
You’ll rest in star music content,
The whole night until the first day-break.

In your dreams, in your dreams visions shall loom,
You’ll drink deep of Rusalka’s* sweet kisses;
Like a flower your moaning shall bloom
On the breast of the dove-maiden’s blisses.

Do not go, do no go to her, no!
Or the imp will drag you in the marshes,
A cockerel enchanted will crow
Over wondrous and sensitive rushes.

Softly words, softly words in a spell
Mist you over with drunkenness whispered,
And the forest of midnight is lulled
High over your bridal mysterious.

Day on day, day on day rushes by,
Night with progress of fog walks before you;
Dread fear put forth grief, and on high
Like a cross it shall hang poising o’er you.

Your blood, your blood phantoms shall drink
To the last drop within the veins laden.
Look you bold on the wood, do not shrink,
But go not to the rusalka-maiden.

*According to the East Slav mythology, a maiden with long tresses living either in the sea or in cornfields.

Z. Biadula 1910