У лукоморья дуб зеленый... - пер. А. Пушкина

There is the oak-tree in Lukomorye;
The golden chain is twisted over it:
And day and night a skilfull cat is going
So constantly round the tree;
Once he is going to right hand -
He's singing, telling tales;
Once to the left - the miracles again:
The goblin in the wood  you meet,
The mermaid on the branche's sitting;
There are on the unknown roads
The traces of unknown beasts;
The log-hut's on the chicken legs all
Without doors and windows;
There woods and lands are full of images,
At dawn there the waves are rushing
On deserted and sandy shore,
And thirty knights are going flushing
From clear sea waters in a turn,
With uncle-tutor following on;
A prince there is captivating a cruel tzar
In passing by the magic land;
Above the forests and the seas far
In view of all the people's high
The wizard is carrying an athlete;
In prison a tzarevna cries,
And a brown wolf servs her with faith;
There the Baba-Yaga is crawling
In old her mortar self-going;
There the tzar Kaschei bends over
The pile of gold, exhausted all:
There the Russia's smell...
The Russia's flavour!
And I was also sitting there
Beneath the oak-tree, drinking mead;
The skilful cat was telling tales,
One of them, which I do remember
With pleasure now I present
To all around readers gentle...
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