Tanyusha was beautiful, the most beautiful in the village, A red frill on the…

Tanyusha was beautiful, the most beautiful in the village, A red frill on the hem of her white sarafan. Tanya walks by the ravine behind the fences in the evening, The moon plays with the clouds in the cloudy mist. A young man came out and bowed his curly head: "Farewell, my joy, I'm marrying another." She turned pale as a shroud, cold as dew. Her braid fluttered like a death-dealing snake. "Oh, blue-eyed young man, I mean no offense, I've come to tell you: I'm marrying another." Not the morning bells, but the wedding chorus, A wedding party gallops on carts, the riders hide their faces. It's not the cuckoos who are sad—Tanya's family is crying. Tanya has a wound on her temple from a wicked flail. Blood caked on her forehead like a scarlet crown. Tanya was a beautiful woman, the most beautiful in the village.