* * *
On his hand you may see many glittering rings,
Those are tender girls’ hearts, rightful trophies of flings.
There a diamond exults and an opal daydreams,
And a beautiful ruby emits crimson whims.
But on his pallid hand my gemstone will not shine,
None shall ever be granted this jewel of mine.
In my dream a gold ray of the moon forged this ring
As it slipped on my finger it whispered to me:
“Safeguard my precious gift; treat your fancy with pride!”
I will not fail my ring. There’ll be none to confide.
Translated by Dina Belyayeva