The fir fronds tremble from their own weight
All the birds quietly twitter with fear.
Your forest is in an enchanted state
And you cannot ever leave here.

Let bird-cherry blooms dry like clothes in the breeze
Let sweet scented lilacs patter like rain.
Yet I will take you far from here, if you please,
To a palace where pipes play again.

For a thousand long years, sorcerers hid your land
From me and the whole world outside.
So to you there’s nothing lovelier nor more grand
Than this forest, enchanted and wide.

Let there be no drops of dew on the dawnlit trees
Let the moon quarrel with the cloud-thick sky.
Yet I will take you far from here, if you please,
To look seawards from a terem1 on high.

On which day of the week, and what time
Will you warily come out to me?
When will I carry you in these arms of mine
To a place hidden for just you and me?

I will steal you away, if you like the thief so -
Or have my efforts all been in vain?
Maybe to paradise in a tent we could go
If the palace is booked out again?