"Tell me why the moon shines palely
On the city wall and orchards?
It's as though the mist were veiling
Russian fields laid bare by autumn" -
To the nightly silent cypress,
Lala dear, I put this question.
But the trees made no reply to me,
Raising their proud crowns to heaven.
"Tell me why the moon shines sadly?"
I asked flowers' in the coppice.
"From the fluttering rose," they answered,
"You shall find the cause of sorrow."
Then the rose, her petals spreading,
In dismay and sadness fluttered:
"Shaganeh has been unfaithful,
Shaganeh has kissed another,
"Saying: 'The Russian will not notice...
Hearts need songs, but songs a body...'
That is why the moon has grown so
Sadly pale and shines so wanly.
"It has seen too much deception,
Tears and torments none were seeking."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But despite this ever blessed
Are these lilac-blossom evenings.