An oak tree greening by the ocean;
A golden chain about it wound:
Whereon a learned cat, in motion
Both day and night, will walk around;
On walking right, he sings a ditty;
On walking left, he tells a lay.
A magic place: there wends his way
The wood sprite, there's a mermaid sitting
On branches, there on trails past knowing
Are tracks of beasts you never met;
On chicken feet a hut is set
With neither door nor window showing.
There wood and dale with wonders team;
At dawn of day the breakers stream
Upon the bare and barren lea,
And thirty handsome armored heroes
File from the waters' shining mirrors,
With them their Usher from the Sea.
There glimpse a prince, and in his passing
He makes a dreaded tsar his slave;
Aloft, before the people massing.
Across the wood, across the wave,
A warlock bears a warrior brave;
See Baba Yaga's mortar glide
All of itself, with her astride.
There droops Kashchey, on treasure bent;
There's Russia's spirit...Russian scent!
And there I stayed, and drank of mead;
That oak tree greening by the shore
I sat beneath, and of his lore
The learned cat would chant and read…

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