Young fair maidens, three in sight
Spun their threads and talks at night.
“If I only were tsarina,”
By the window one was dreaming,
“To the whole Christian world
I’d a feast or feasts award.”
“And if I became tsarina
Said the second sister, grinning,
“I would weave unending-long
For this world a quilt alone.”
“Were it me,” a little wistful
Said the third and last of sisters,
“I would bear a hero bold
For our tzar, our father-lord.”
In an instant ever lightly
Creaked their door, and in – delighted –
Stepped the tzar, that ruler bold,
Stepped into the lighted hall.
He had heard the night’s events,
Standing near, behind the fence.
Last of girls, her yearning lines
By the tzar, it seems, were liked:
“Greetings, young and lovely maiden!
Be my Queen and have your way then…
By the time September ends
Bear a hero son, dear friend.”