VIII

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VIII

Tattiana gazed with curious eye

On melted wax in water poured;

The clue unto some mystery

She deemed its outline might afford.

Rings from a dish of water full

In order due the maidens pull;

But when Tattiana’s hand had ta’en

A ring she heard the ancient strain:

The peasants there are rich as kings,

They shovel silver with a spade,

He whom we sing to shall be made

Happy and glorious. But this brings

With sad refrain misfortune near.

Girls the kashourka much prefer.