TATITERA — Королевна

There never was, in all the world beneath the moon, A whiter shoulder. A gentle voice, a many-stringed voice, Flattering, laughing speech. All the night singers make their songs For her, for her. Envious maidens whisper At her silent doors.

A dark knight, without lifting his visor, Eagerly rushes into battle. It was she who sent him to his death With her snow-white hand. But when alone, from the cold tower She keeps gazing At fields, forests, lakes, ploughlands From the high window.

And a tear shines in her tender gaze, And far away, far away Clouds drift, and dawns glow red, And cranes fly. And also — the master of her soul, The one who forever Forgot the path to the distant cloister, Will never return, Will never return, Will never return.