The men and the women
And pretty young girls
Are all singing together.
"Good health to you! Which is
Among you the woman
Matrona Korchagin?"
The peasants demand.
"And what do you want 380
With Matrona Korchagin?"
The woman Matrona
Is tall, finely moulded,
Majestic in bearing,
And strikingly handsome.
Of thirty-eight years
She appears, and her black hair
Is mingled with grey.
Her complexion is swarthy,
Her eyes large and dark 390
And severe, with rich lashes.
A white shirt, and short
Sarafan[44] she is wearing,
She walks with a hay-fork
Slung over her shoulder.
"Well, what do you want
With Matrona Korchagin?"
The peasants are silent;
They wait till the others
Have gone in advance, 400
And then, bowing, they answer:
"We come from afar,
And a trouble torments us,
A trouble so great
That for it we've forsaken
Our homes and our work,
And our appetites fail.
We're orthodox peasants,
From District 'Most Wretched,'
From 'Destitute Parish,' 410
From neighbouring hamlets--
'Patched,' 'Barefoot,' and 'Shabby,'
'Bleak,' 'Burnt-Out,' and 'Hungry,'
And 'Harvestless,' too.
We met in the roadway
And argued about
Who is happy in Russia.
Luka said, 'The pope,'
And Demyan, 'The Pomyeshchick,'
And Prov said, 'The Tsar,' 420
And Roman, 'The official.
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