Текст оригинала на английском языке
The poplars in the fields of France Are golden ladies come to dance; But yet to see them there is none But I and the September sun. The girl who in their shadow sits Can only see the sock she knits; Her dog is watching all the day That not a cow shall go astray. The leisurely contented cows Can only see the earth they browse; Their piebald bodies through the grass With busy, munching noses pass. Alone the sun and I behold Processions crowned with shining gold - The poplars in the fields of France, Like glorious ladies come to dance.
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