The Sprig Of The Apple-Tree. From Elizaveta Vasilevna Poem by Liza Sud

The sprig of the white apple-tree -
I carry it with all its odour.
That girl is so brave and sweet,
And that is why I love her so.

With the one like me - fell in love,
So strong - without fear or blaming,
Without money, house, cars.
And that means she is good and clever.

After all, I will become rich,
Since I can give her any present.
As for the first time - every spring
I'll bring to her apple-tree's fragrance.