Head Of Green Tresses

To L. I. Kashina

Head of green tresses And maiden breast, Why on the pond, birch, Your gaze do you rest? What does the wind whisper, Sand intone? In your braid-boughs will you Set a moon-comb? Your secret wood-thoughts Disclose to me! I love your sad tones On autumn eve. "Curious friend," in reply The birch said, "Tears here by starlight A shepherd shed. "The moon cast shadows Beneath green trees. He held me, clasping My bare knees. "And sighed, as my branches Rustled above: Till next year's cranes come Farewell, my love!'"