Ruslan and Lyudmila by Alexander Pushkin (translated by Roger Clarke)

　　PROLOGUE

　　By an arc of sea a green oak stands;

　　to the oak a chain of gold is tied;

　　and at the chain's end night and day

　　a learned cat walks round and round.

　　Rightwards he goes, and sings a song;

　　leftwards, a fairy tale he tells.

　　There's magic! It's a wood sprite's haunt-

　　a rusalka sits among the boughs-

　　on footpaths no one has explored

　　are tracks of beasts no one has seen-

　　a hut stands there on chicken's legs,

　　no windows in its walls, nor doors-

　　unumbered wraiths stalk wood and dale-

　　at dawn the ocean waves roll in

　　and surge across the empty sands,

　　while from the limpid waters strides

　　a troop of thirty champions,

　　fine men, and their sea-tutor too-

　　a kind's son passing by the way

　　takes prisoner an awesome tsar-

　　up in the clouds for all to see

　　above the sweep of woods and waves

　　a wizard hauls a warrior brave-

　　a princess pines in prison there,

　　a brown-haired wold her loyal page-

　　a mortar in a witch's form

　　moves to and fro as if alive-

　　frail Tsar Kashchey wilts by his gold.

　　The place breathes Russia... recks of Rus!

　　I was there once: I sipped some mead;

　　I saw the green oak by the sea;

　　I sat beneath it, while the cat,

　　that learned cat, told me his tales.

　　Once of those tales I still recall,

　　and this I'll share now with you all...

　　bitsy hacks by Sean S. LeBlanc