Young maidens were a-spinning,
Spinning flax into linen,
Spinning late by lamplight:
But better than all other maidens
Rosie spun her thread smoothly,
Spun her thread round and fine.

  And it came to the ears of the czar,
How a child so young in years
Worked diligently at her spinning wheel;
He sent her flax for her distaff,
As blonde and soft as Rosie’s curls:
Rosie, spin me a tent!

  And from that -- thus wrote
The czar to her -- which you have left over,
You who are so familiar with spinning:
From that you may spin garments,
Wedding garments, and, wearing them,
Rest in my arms as my bride.

  Clever is Rosie, full of shrewdness;
A little wooden fly-shuttle
She sends to the abode of the czar,
Czar! not everyone can do what you can;
Czar! here you have a shuttle!
Make me a loom therewith!

  And from what -- thus wrote
Rosie to him -- you have left over,
Let a summerhouse be built!
In that summerhouse I shall dwell,
Within it shall reward artistry and diligence,
Shall rest in your arms as a bride.