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

preening pussycat, relaxing
Upon the stove with lick and purr
Was an unfailing sign to her
That guests [bad word]  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
fleeing hare should cross her path
She would be frightened out of reason
And filled with supertitious dread
See some calamity ahead