Tatyana, in her heart obeying The simple folkways of the past Believed in dreams and in soothsaying And heeded what the moon forecast
Weird apparitions would distress her And any object could impress her With some occult significance Or dire foreboding of mischance
A preening pussycat, relaxing Upon the stove with lick and purr Was an unfailing sign to her That guests were coming, or a waxing Twin-horned young moon that she saw ride Across the sky on her left side
Would make her tremble and change color Each time a shooting star might flash In the dark firmament, grow duller And burst asunder into ash
All flustered, Tatyana would be seeking While yet the fiery spark was streaking To whisper it her heart's desire But if she met a black-robed friar
At any place or any season Or if from out the meadow swath A fleeing hare should cross her path She would be frightened out of reason And filled with supertitious dread See some calamity ahead