One morn upon the willow tree
A little nightingale sang.
She said with her enchanting words,
“Sweet one, my lover’s door last night, you rang?”
Thy lovers door oh angel, I asked.
Who can thy lover be?
“My lover, my honey dew, you met.
For under the moons rays, you will him see.”
Under that moons rays, many a thing I saw
Under the moons rays, I saw thee sleep
“My steadfast companion, my true great champion
I did more than sleep, weep”
Why my darling bird? But why would you moan?
I hear thee sing so great a song.
“I sing a song of perennial sorrow,
And every ear, will hear it wrong”
Ah! Sweet nightingale! I’ll hear thee cry!
When you cry and weep all through the night.
And yet I am lost in wonder and intrigue,
Who might thy lover be? A knight?
Alas! I do not know
Who my lover be
For in the dusk, I feel my bones
Bent in slumber, even my knee”
“My lover, my friend, he awakens,
When the owl doth sing her tune.
And dances merrily along;
Skipping and hopping, a sheer boon”
When oh nightingale will you meet with him?
And sing your enchanting hymn?
When will you love and live with him?
For your luck does seem so dim?”
One day, my beloved friend ‘tll come,
When night shall meet the day,
When joy and sorrow all are, but one;
When the laws of day and night, disobey”
My truthful friend, it shall never be;
For all is what it is.
The night shall never meet the day
For all the world will go amiss.
“You exaggerate, oh fickle friend
For I know will all my heart.
As long as my blood flows through my veins,
I cannot tell the day and night apart!”
Vanya is a 2nd Year MA student with a penchant for Russian Literature and philosophy in general. She loves passionate discussions on Dostovesky and religion. She blogs at: http://vanyarachel.wordpress.com/