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

My men, here, to bind you.'

"I sank on the bench,

I was trembling all over;

I shook like a leaf

As I gazed at the doctor;

His sleeves were rolled backwards,

A knife was in one hand,

A cloth in the other, 220

And blood was upon it;

His glasses were fixed

On his nose. All was silent.

The officer's pen

Began scratching on paper;

The motionless peasants

Stood gloomy and mournful;

The pope lit his pipe

And sat watching the doctor.

He said, 'You are reading 230

A heart with a knife.'

I started up wildly;

I knew that the doctor

Was piercing the heart

Of my little dead baby.

"'Now, bind her, the vixen!'

The officer shouted;—

She's mad!' He began

To inquire of the peasants,

'Have none of you noticed 240

Before that the woman

Korchágin is crazy?'

"'No,' answered the peasants.

And then Phílip's parents

He asked, and their children;

They answered, 'Oh, no, sir!

We never remarked it.'

He asked old Savyéli,—

There's one thing,' he answered,

'That might make one think 250

That Matróna is crazy:

She's come here this morning

Without bringing with her

A present of money

Or cloth to appease you.'

"And then the old man

Began bitterly crying.

The officer frowning

Sat down and said nothing.

And then I remembered: 260

In truth it was madness—

The piece of new linen

Which I had made ready

Was still in my box—

I'd forgotten to bring it;

And now I had seen them

Seize Djómushka's body

And tear it to pieces.

I think at that moment

I turned into marble: 270

I watched while the doctor

Was drinking some vodka

And washing his hands;

I saw how he offered

The glass to the pope,

And I heard the pope answer,

'Why ask me? We mortals

Are pitiful sinners,—

We don't need much urging

To empty a glass!' 280

"The peasants are standing

In fear, and are thinking:

'Now, how did these vultures

Get wind of the matter?

Who told them that here

There was chance of some profit?

They dashed in like wolves,

Seized the beards of the peasants,

And snarled in their faces

Like savage hyenas!' 290

"And now they are feasting,

Are eating and drinking;

They chat with the pope,

He is murmuring to them,

'The people in these parts

Are beggars and drunken;

They owe me for countless

Confessions and weddings;

They'll take their last farthing

To spend in the tavern; 300

And nothing but sins

Do they bring to their priest.'

"And then I hear singing

In clear, girlish voices—

I know them all well:

There's Natásha and Glásha,

And Dáriushka,—Jesus

Have mercy upon them!

Hark! steps and accordion;

Then there is silence. 310

I think I had fallen

Asleep; then I fancied

That somebody entering

Bent over me, saying,

'Sleep, woman of sorrows,

Exhausted by sorrow,'

And making the sign

Of the cross on my forehead.

I felt that the ropes

On my body were loosened, 320

And then I remembered

No more. In black darkness

I woke, and astonished

I ran to the window:

Deep night lay around me—

What's happened? Where am I?

I ran to the street,—

It was empty, in Heaven

No moon and no stars,

And a great cloud of darkness 330

Spread over the village.

The huts of the peasants

Were dark; only one hut

Was brilliantly lighted,

It shone like a palace—

The hut of Savyéli.

I ran to the doorway,

And then … I remembered.

"The table was gleaming

With yellow wax candles, 340

And there, in the midst,

Lay a tiny white coffin,

And over it spread

Was a fine coloured napkin,

An icon was placed

At its head….

O you builders,

For my little son

What a house you have fashioned!

No windows you've made 350

That the sunshine may enter,

No stove and no bench,

And no soft little pillows….

Oh, Djómushka will not

Feel happy within it,

He cannot sleep well….

'Begone!'—I cried harshly

On seeing Savyéli;

He stood near the coffin

And read from the book 360

In his hand, through his glasses.

I cursed old Savyéli,

Cried—'Branded one! Convict!

Begone! 'Twas you killed him!

You murdered my, Djóma,

Begone from my sight!'

"He stood without moving;

He crossed himself thrice

And continued his reading.

But when I grew calmer 370

Savyéli approached me,

And said to me gently,

'In winter, Matróna,

I told you my story,

But yet there was more.

Our forests were endless,

Our lakes wild and lonely,

Our people were savage;

By cruelty lived we:

By snaring the wood-grouse, 380

By slaying the bears:—

You must kill or you perish!

I've told you of Barin

Shaláshnikov, also

Of how we were robbed

By the villainous German,

And then of the prison,

The exile, the mines.

My heart was like stone,

I grew wild and ferocious. 390

My winter had lasted

A century, Grandchild,

But your little Djóma

Had melted its frosts.

One day as I rocked him

He smiled of a sudden,

And I smiled in answer….

A strange thing befell me

Some days after that:

As I prowled in the forest 400

I aimed at a squirrel;

But suddenly noticed

How happy and playful

It was, in the branches:

Its bright little face

With its paw it sat washing.

I lowered my gun:—

'You shall live, little squirrel!'

I rambled about

In the woods, in the meadows, 410

And each tiny floweret

I loved. I went home then

And nursed little Djóma,

And played with him, laughing.

God knows how I loved him,

The innocent babe!

And now … through my folly,

My sin, … he has perished….

Upbraid me and kill me,

But nothing can help you, 420

With God one can't argue….

Stand up now, Matróna,

And pray for your baby;

God acted with reason:

He's counted the joys

In the life of a peasant!'

"Long, long did Savyéli

Stand bitterly speaking,

The piteous fate

Of the peasant he painted; 430

And if a rich Barin,

A merchant or noble,

If even our Father

The Tsar had been listening,

Savyéli could not

Have found words which were truer,

Have spoken them better….

"'Now Djóma is happy

And safe, in God's Heaven,'

He said to me later. 440

His tears began falling….

"'I do not complain

That God took him, Savyéli,'

I said,—'but the insult

They did him torments me,

It's racking my heart.

Why did vicious black ravens

Alight on his body

And tear it to pieces?

Will neither our God 450

Nor our Tsar—Little Father—

Arise to defend us?'

"'But God, little Grandchild,

Is high, and the Tsar

Far away,' said Savyéli.

"I cried, 'Yet I'll reach them!'

"But Grandfather answered,

'Now hush, little Grandchild,

You woman of sorrow,

Bow down and have patience; 460

No truth you will find

In the world, and no justice.'

"'But why then, Savyéli?'

"'A bondswoman, Grandchild,

You are; and for such

Is no hope,' said Savyéli.

"For long I sat darkly

And bitterly thinking.

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