SONG
I walked along the river bank,
My horse paced by my side.
“Marry me, Cossack!” a gay voice cried.
“Marry me, or wed me not,
But let me hear you say
You hope you may wed me some fine day!”
“O were you richer, little one,
I’d take you by the hand,
Before my stern father we two should stand.”
“O were I rich, my Cossack,
Do you know what I would do?
I’d tramp on your father, I’d tramp on you!”
I walked along the river bank....
Don’t sigh, my little maid,
In your garden barwēnok will not fade.
If this one leaves you, do not fret,
Another will come soon.
Fresh are your roses—it’s only June.