Nikolai Nekrasov - Who Can Be Happy and Free in Russia?

And then with the winter
Came Phílip, and brought me
A pretty silk scarf;
And one feast-day he took me
To drive in the sledges; 120

And quickly my sorrows
Were lost and forgotten:

I sang as in old days
At home, with my father.
For I and my husband
Were both of an age,
And were happy together
When only they left us
Alone, but remember
A husband like Phílip 130
Not often is found."

"Do you mean to say
That he never once beat you?"

Matróna was plainly
Confused by the question;

"Once, only, he beat me,"
She said, very low.

"And why?" asked the peasants.
"Well, you know yourselves, friends,
How quarrels arise 140
In the homes of the peasants.
A young married sister
Of Phílip's one day
Came to visit her parents.

She found she had holes
In her boots, and it vexed her.

Then Phílip said, 'Wife,
Fetch some boots for my sister.'

And I did not answer
At once; I was lifting 150
A large wooden tub,
So, of course, couldn't speak.

But Phílip was angry
With me, and he waited
Until I had hoisted
The tub to the oven,
Then struck me a blow
With his fist, on my temple.

"'We're glad that you came,
But you see that you'd better 160
Keep out of the way,'

Said the other young sister
To her that was married.

"Again Philip struck me!
"'It's long since I've seen you,
My dearly-loved daughter,
But could I have known
How the baggage would treat you!'…
Whined Mother-in-law.
"And again Phílip struck me! 170
"Well, that is the story.

'Tis surely not fitting
For wives to sit counting
The blows of their husbands,
But then I had promised
To keep nothing back."

"Ah, well, with these women—
The poisonous serpents!—
A corpse would awaken
And snatch up a horsewhip," 180
The peasants say, smiling.
Matróna said nothing.

The peasants, in order
To keep the occasion
In manner befitting,
Are filling the glasses;

And now they are singing
In voices of thunder
A rollicking chorus,
Of husbands' relations, 190
And wielding the knout.

… …
"Cruel hated husband,
Hark! he is coming!
Holding the knout…."

Chorus
"Hear the lash whistle!
See the blood spurt!
Ai, leli, leli!
See the blood spurt!"

… …
"Run to his father!
Bowing before him— 200
'Save me!' I beg him;
'Stop my fierce husband—
Venomous serpent!'

Father-in-law says,
'Beat her more soundly!
Draw the blood freely!'"

Chorus
"Hear the lash whistle!
See the blood spurt!
Ai, leli, leli!
See the blood spurt!" 210

… …
"Quick—to his mother!
Bowing before her—
'Save me!' I beg her;
'Stop my cruel husband!
Venomous serpent!'

Mother-in-law says,
'Beat her more soundly,
Draw the blood freely!'"

Chorus
"Hear the lash whistle!
See the blood spurt! 220
Ai, leli, leli!
See the blood spurt!"

* * * * *
"On Lady-day Phílip
Went back to the city;
A little while later
Our baby was born.

Like a bright-coloured picture
Was he—little Djóma;

The sunbeams had given
Their radiance to him, 230
The pure snow its whiteness;

The poppies had painted
His lips; by the sable
His brow had been pencilled;

The falcon had fashioned
His eyes, and had lent them
Their wonderful brightness.

At sight of his first
Angel smile, all the anger
And bitterness nursed 240
In my bosom was melted;

It vanished away
Like the snow on the meadows
At sight of the smiling
Spring sun. And not longer
I worried and fretted;

I worked, and in silence
I let them upbraid.

But soon after that
A misfortune befell me: 250
The manager by
The Pomyéshchick appointed,
Called Sitnikov, hotly
Began to pursue me.

'My lovely Tsaritsa!
'My rosy-ripe berry!'
Said he; and I answered,

'Be off, shameless rascal!
Remember, the berry
Is not in your forest!' 260

I stayed from the field-work,
And hid in the cottage;
He very soon found me.
I hid in the corn-loft,

But Mother-in-law
Dragged me out to the courtyard;
'Now don't play with fire, girl!'
She said. I besought her
To send him away,
But she answered me roughly, 270

'And do you want Phílip
To serve as a soldier?'

I ran to Savyéli,
The grandfather, begging
His aid and advice.

"I haven't yet told you
A word of Savyéli,
The only one living
Of Phílip's relations
Who pitied and loved me. 280

Say, friends, shall I tell you
About him as well?"

"Yes, tell us his tale,
And we'll each throw a couple
Of sheaves in to-morrow,
Above what we promised."

"Well, well," says Matróna,
"And 'twould be a pity
To give old Savyéli
No place in the story; 290
For he was a happy one,
Too—the old man…."