Then suddenly singing Is heard in a chorus Harmonious and bold. A row of young fellows, Half drunk, but not falling, Come staggering onwards, 470 All lustily singing; They sing of the Volga, The daring of youths And the beauty of maidens ... A hush falls all over The road, and it listens; And only the singing Is heard, broadly rolling In waves, sweet and tuneful, Like wind-ruffled corn. 480 The hearts of the peasants Are touched with wild anguish, And one little woman Grows pensive and mournful, And then begins weeping And sobs forth her grief: "My life is like day-time With no sun to warm it! My life is like night With no glimmer of moon! 490 And I--the young woman-- Am like the swift steed On the curb, like the swallow With wings crushed and broken; My jealous old husband Is drunken and snoring, But even while snoring He keeps one eye open, And watches me always, Me--poor little wife!" 500 And so she lamented, The sad little woman; Then all of a sudden Springs down from the waggon! "Where now?" cries her husband, The jealous old man. And just as one lifts By the tail a plump radish, He clutches her pig-tail, And pulls her towards him. 510 O night wild and drunken, Not bright--and yet star-lit, Not hot--but fanned softly By tender spring breezes, You've not left our peasants Untouched by your sweetness; They're thinking and longing For their little women. And they are quite right too; Still sweeter 'twould be 520 With a nice little wife! Cries Ivan, "I love you," And Mariushka, "I you!" Cries Ivan, "Press closer!" And Mariushka, "Kiss me!" Cries Ivan, "The night's cold," And Mariushka, "Warm me!" They think of this song now, And all make their minds up To shorten the journey. 530 A birch-tree is growing Alone by the roadside, God knows why so lonely! And under it spreading The magic white napkin, The peasants sit round it: "Hey! Napkin enchanted! Give food to the peasants!" Two hands have come floating From no one sees where, 540 Place a bucket of vodka, A large pile of bread, On the magic white napkin, And dwindle away. The peasants feel strengthened, And leaving Roman there On guard near the vodka, They mix with the people, To try to discover The one who is happy. 550 They're all in a hurry To turn towards home. CHAPTER IV THE HAPPY ONES In crowds gay and noisy Our peasants are mixing, Proclaiming their mission: "Let any man here Who esteems himself happy Stand forth! If he prove it A pailful of vodka Is at his disposal; As much as he wishes So much he shall have!" 10