The Octave
The divine mysteries of the harmony of a verse
you would not think of unravelling from the books of sages:
at the edge of drowsy waters, wandering alone, by chance,
lend an ear, in your soul, to the whispering of the reeds,
the murmur of the leafy grove; their unusual sound
experience deeply and comprehend... In the consonance of poetry
Involuntarily from your lips regular octaves
will flow, sonorously, like the music of the grove.

Apollon Nikolayevich Maykov