Клюква

I braided braids brown,
Sang songs , oh yes, sad ,
Gold were thrown at the feet of white,
Silver confused my hands .

Bowstring taut tight ,
Brimstone duck wings disengaging ,
Would fly to the sun red,
Yes around only pitch darkness ...

On the river was - there is a gray mist ,
In the fruit - juicy grief ,
In the woods cheese knocked legs hurt ,
Goblin 's father called by name.

Pass the night Ever Watchful ,
And as the sun will illuminate the sky ,
Look in the mirror - there she stands ,
Seda hair , but toothless ...