Canes have
started rustling on the river bank,
Princess-girl
is crying with her face pale, blank.
Pretty girl
has chanted " loves me - loves me not",
The unwoven
flowers down the river float.
She is not
to marry later in the spring,
Goblin has
foretold a very frightening thing.
Mice have
stripped the birch-tree of the bark, so hard,
They have
frightened girlie out of the yard.
Horses
fight, so threateningly jerking their heads,
Ah, dark
hair is what goblin really hates.
Incense
smell is coming from the nearby groves,
Loud winds
are singing their dirge-like songs.
On the river
bank she sadly walks around,
As the foamy
wave is spinning her a shroud.
1914
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