The reeds rustled Russian folkclore

The high reeds rustled, the trees bent low,

And dark indeed was the summer night.

A single pair of really true lovers

Walked alone all night long until the light.

And when the morning broke, they rose;

All around the green grass lay crushed—

Yet not the grass alone crushed was:

My own youth, too, was down  trampled.

And if at home they heavy scold you then,

Come back once more to this very spot.

She came—but he was nowhere there;

And he would never come again, fact.

She covered her eyes with her kerchief

And began to weep aloud all day:

"Oh, where has my beauty vanished mischive,

To whom have I given my happiness away?"

The high reeds rustled, the trees bent low,

And dark indeed was the summer night…