Oy, the crate is full, full,
With chintz and brocade,
Come on now my sweetie pie,
You with the fetching shoulders!
Go out, out into the tall rye!
There till nighttime I’ll wait,
I’ll catch sight of my dark-eyed beauty,
And all my goods I’ll divvy-out.
I myself paid no small prices,
So don’t skimp or bargain:
Bring here your crimson lips,
Sit nearer to your beloved!
Hazy night has already fallen,
A dashing youth—he awaits…
Listen, it’s her!—she comes as promised
To peddle her wares.
Katya tenderly barters her goods,
Afraid to give it all away.
The youth kisses the maiden,
Proposing to raise the price.
Only the deep night knows
How they came to terms,
Straighten up now, tall rye,
And keep their secret sacredly!
