Ah, The Woods

Ah, the woods, the woods,

Ah, the woods, the woods.

Boyars rode through the field.

Boyars rode through the field,

Carrying a loaf of spring-crop bread.

No one recognised it

Except for Maryushka Ivanovna.

Once she recognized it,

She sighed and cried:

“Oh, spring-crop bread,

You’re my parting, my separation,

“You’ve parted me with my father

And with my dear mother.”