César Antonovich Cui - Echo - текст песни (слова)

With in the wood a tricksy imp's abiding, 
 The Echo-sprite. 
 With mocking laughter there he lurks in hiding, 
 Where trees make night. 
 He wears a jerkin so they tell, 
 All woven from grasses green! 
 Aye, of grass so green. 
 A jaunty cap becomes right well,
 His wind toss'd locks of golden sheen. 
 To mortals' calls he loves to be replying, 
 Conceal'd from sight. 
 We hear his voice, 
 his presence ne'er descrying. 
 Ah! thou Echo-sprite, 
 We hear thee sprite thy presence ne'er descrying. 
 Thou sprite, Tho' out of sight, 
 We hear thee sprite, Tho'out of sight.