This fabulous promise Sets sober folk smiling; The tipsy and wise ones Are ready to spit In the beards of the pushing Impertinent strangers! But many are willing To drink without payment, And so when our peasants Go back to the birch-tree 20 A crowd presses round them. The first to come forward, A lean discharged deacon, With legs like two matches, Lets forth a great mouthful Of indistinct maxims: That happiness lies not In broad lands, in jewels, In gold, and in sables-- "In what, then?" 30 A peaceful And undisturbed conscience. That all the dominions Of land-owners, nobles, And Tsars are but earthly And limited treasures; But he who is godly Has part in Christ's kingdom Of boundless extent: "When warm in the sun, 40 With a cupful of vodka, I'm perfectly happy, I ask nothing more!" "And who'll give you vodka?" "Why, you! You have promised." "Be off, you lean scamp!" A one-eyed old woman Comes next, bent and pock-marked, And bowing before them She says she is happy; 50 That in her allotment A thousand fine turnips Have grown, this last autumn. "Such turnips, I tell you! Such monsters! and tasty! In such a small plot, too, In length only one yard, And three yards in width!" They laugh at the woman, But give her no vodka; 60 "Go, get you home, Mother! You've vodka enough there To flavour the turnips!" A soldier with medals, Quite drunk but still thirsty, Says firmly, "I'm happy!" "Then tell us, old fellow, In what he is happy-- The soldier? Take care, though, To keep nothing back!" 70 "Well, firstly, I've been Through at least twenty battles, And yet I'm alive. And, secondly, mark you (It's far more important), In times of peace, too, Though I'm always half-famished, Death never has conquered! And, third, though they flogged me For every offence, 80 Great or small, I've survived it!" "Here, drink, little soldier! With you one can't argue; You're happy indeed!" Then comes a young mason, A huge, weighty hammer Swung over his shoulder: "I live in content," He declares, "with my wife And beloved old mother; 90 We've nought to complain of." "In what are you happy?" "In this!"--like a feather He swings the great hammer. "Beginning at sunrise And setting my back straight As midnight draws near, I can shatter a mountain! Before now, it's happened That, working one day, 100 I've piled enough stones up To earn my five roubles!" Pakhom tries to lift it-- The "happiness." After Prodigiously straining And cracking all over, He sets it down, gladly, And pours out some vodka. "Well, weighty it is, man! But will you be able 110 To bear in old age Such a 'happiness,' think you?"