Sits the father at the table
With his shoulders drooping;
He cannot behold the sunshine,
Heavy is his sorrow.
Near him sits the aged mother
On the bench hand-carven.
Through her tears she’s speaking coldly,
Speaking with her daughter.
“When’s the wedding, O my daughter?
Where is he you’ve chosen?
When’s the wedding party coming
With its chiefs and boyars?
There in Muscovy my daughter!
Go and search and find them;
Do not tell there to good people
That you have a mother.
Cursed be the day and hour
When I bore you for us!
Had I known, I would have drowned you
Ere the sun had risen....
You have turned into a monster,
And into a Moskal ...
O my daughter, O my daughter,
Once my rosy flower!
Like a berry, like a birdlet
You have lived and changed
Into evil ... O my daughter,
What have you done to us?
So you’ve thanked us.... Go now after
Moskals as your kinsfolk.
You have not obeyed my warnings,
Now give heed to others!
O, my daughter, go and find them,
Find them and address them,
Be content among strange people,
Never come back to us.
Come not back to us, my daughter,
From a distant country ...
Who will bury my old body,
When you have departed?
Who will weep above my coffin
As my child would sorrow?
Who upon my grave will set out
The dark red _kalynas_![1]
Who without you will remember
My poor soul so sinful?
Oh, my daughter, O my daughter,
O my darling daughter.
Go from us now.”
Coldly, coldly,
She gave her a blessing.
“God be with you!”--and as dying
On the floor she’s fallen.
Then the aged father added:
“Why are you delaying?”
Katerina started sobbing,
To his feet she’s fallen:
“O, forgive me, O my father,
For my awful misdeed!
O, forgive me, dearest father,
Dearest, loving falcon!”
--“Let the Lord Himself forgive you
And good people likewise!
Pray to God and go your own way--
I shall feel far better.”
Then she rose and said a farewell,
Silently departed;
While her aged parents stayed there
Just as two poor orphans.
She went to the cherry orchard,
Said a prayer on leaving,
Took some earth from ’neath a cherry,
On her cross she placed it.
Then she said: “I’ll come back never!
In a distant country,
In strange earth I shall be buried
By the hands of strangers,
But this earth which I am taking
Lies upon my spirit
And repeats to foreign people
All that I have suffered.
Do not tell it, treasured keepsake!
May I ne’er be buried,
That the people ne’er may notice
I’m a ruined sinner.
Say it not--and who will tell them
That I am his mother;
O my God! My woe unbounded!
Where can I be buried?
Son, I soon shall myself bury
Underneath the water,
And you will my sins atone for
As an orphan lonely,
With no father!--”
Katerina
Wept as she departed.
On her head her little kerchief,
In her arms her baby.
Going from the village sadly,
Back she scarcely glances,
But her head she cast down earthward
And began lamenting.
Like a poplar in the meadow,
She stood on the highway;
Like the dew just at the sunset,
So her tears were gleaming.
Through the bitter tears she’s shedding,
Nothing she can notice,
But she pressed her baby closer,
Kissed him while she’s weeping,
And her son, the little angel,
Pays it no attention.
His small arms he stretches to her
And he seeks her bosom ...
Then towards sunset, ’mid the oakwoods
Glows the sky with crimson;
She lost hope and she turned backwards.
Walked ... and only sorrowed.
In the village evil gossip
And unkind was spoken
But her father and her mother
Did not hear the stories.
Why, O why do people always
In this world harm others?
One they bind, and one they murder,
One they joy in hurting ...
Why is this? The saints can tell us!
For the world is spacious
But there is no place upon it
Where a man’s unbothered.
One his fortune has predestined
Everywhere to wander,
While another will be buried
Where his home was ever.
Where, O where are there good people
Who wish only one thing,
To live with and love their fellows?
They have gone, have vanished.
There’s on earth a fortune,
Who can it discover?
There’s on earth a freedom,
Who can e’er possess it?
On the earth are people
Who reap gold and silver,
They succeed in ruling
And they know no trouble.--
Neither that nor freedom!
With their woe and sorrow
Others don their tunics.
Take your gold and silver
And be rich in treasures.
It is tears I’m choosing
To shed them in plenty;
I will drown misfortune
With my bitter weeping.
Slavery I’ll trample
With my feet unshodden!
Then I will be happy
And I’ll be so wealthy,
If my heart is able
To remain in freedom!