Here you will find the Poem Fairy Tale of poet Boris Pasternak
Once, in times forgotten, In a fairy place, Through the steppe, a rider Made his way apace. While he sped to battle, Nearing from the dim Distance, a dark forest Rose ahead of him. Something kept repeating, Seemed his heart to graze: Tighten up the saddle, Fear the watering-place. But he did not listen. Heeding but his will, At full speed he bounded Up the wooded hill; Rode into a valley, Turning from the mound, Galloped through a meadow, Skirted higher ground; Reached a gloomy hollow, Found a trail to trace Down the woodland pathway To the watering-place. Deaf to voice of warning, And without remorse, Down the slope, the rider Led his thirsty horse. ____ Where the stream grew shallow, Winding through the glen, Eerie flames lit up the Entrance to a den. Through thick clouds of crimson Smoke above the spring, An uncanny calling Made the forest ring. And the rider started, And with peering eye Urged his horse in answer To the haunting cry. Then he saw the dragon, And he gripped his lance; And his horse stood breathless Fearing to advance. Thrice around a maiden Was the serpent wound; Fire-breathing nostrils Cast a glare around. And the dragon's body Moved his scaly neck, At her shoulder snaking Whiplike forth and back. By that country's custom Was a young and fair Captive brought as ransom To the dragon's lair. This then was the tribute That the people owed To the worm-protection For a poor abode. Now the dragon hugged his Victim in alarm, And the coils grew tighter Round her throat and arm. Skyward looked the horseman With imploring glance, And for the impending Fight he couched his lance. ____ Tightly closing eyelids. Heights and cloudy spheres. Rivers. Waters. Boulders. Centuries and years. Helmetless, the wounded Lies, his life at stake. With his hooves the charger Tramples down the snake. On the sand, together- Dragon, steed, and lance; In a swoon the rider, The maiden-in a trance. Blue the sky; soft breezes Tender noon caress. Who is she? A lady? Peasant girl? Princess? Now in joyous wonder Cannot cease to weep; Now again abandoned To unending sleep. Now, his strength returning, Opens up his eyes; Now anew the wounded Limp and listless lies. But their hearts are beating. Waves surge up, die down; Carry them, and waken, And in slumber drown. Tightly closing eyelids. Heights and cloudy spheres. Rivers. Waters. Boulders. Centuries and years.