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Here's the Mail Troika Rushing

Here's the mail troika rushing
Along the Volga River in Winter
The coachman is humming some sad tune
And shaking his head
The coachman is humming some sad tune
And shaking his head
 
'What are you thinking of, young lad?' -
A friendly passenger asked him,
'What torments your heart?
Tell me, who made you so sad?'
 
'Oh, dear sir, my good sir!
It's been a year since I fell in love.
But the village headman
scolds me for it and I have to take it!
 
Oh, good sir, Christmastide will come soon
But she will never be mine again!
A rich and hateful one took her from me,
So she'll never again see beautiful days'
 
The coachman finished his story
And put away his whip.
'Hey, restless horses, stop!' -
He said and gave a sorrowful sigh
'Hey, restless horses, stop!' -
He said and gave a sorrowful sigh
 

A Dark-Eyed Young Cossack Girl

A dark-eyed young cossack girl
Once did shoe my horse's hooves,
Then she asked me for some silver -
Gave herself little value.
What's your name, my little dear?
And this dear said to me:
My name can only be heard,
In the gallop of a steed.
 
I went riding down a street,
And I galloped down a road.
On a path, among the brown,
and the greyest of all stones.
Masha, Zina, Dasha, Nina?
None of them, it seems, are her.
'Katya, Katya,' cutting through me,
From the horseshoes can be heard.
 
From that time, starting to ride,
In a gallop, the first step,
'Katya, Katya, Katerina,'
I whisper to myself again.
What a massive fool I am,
I've already another!
But, my Katya, like a song, can't be
Dragged out from my soul, brother.
 
A dark-eyed young cossack girl
Once did shoe my horse's hooves,
Then she asked me for some silver -
Gave herself little value.
What's your name, my little dear?
And this dear said to me:
My name can only be heard,
In the gallop of a steed.