"They have lifted the napkin Which covered my baby; His little white body With scissors and lancets They worry and torture ... The room has grown darker, I'm struggling and screaming, 'You butchers! You fiends! 190 Not on earth, not on water, And not on God's temple My tears shall be showered; But straight on the souls Of my hellish tormentors! Oh, hear me, just God! May Thy curse fall and strike them! Ordain that their garments May rot on their bodies! Their eyes be struck blind, 200 And their brains scorch in madness! Their wives be unfaithful, Their children be crippled! Oh, hear me, just God! Hear the prayers of a mother, And look on her tears,-- Strike these pitiless devils!' "'She's crazy, the woman!' The officer shouted, 'Why did you not tell us 210 Before? Stop this fooling! Or else I shall order 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 Korchagin is crazy?' "'No,' answered the peasants. And then Philip's parents He asked, and their children; They answered, 'Oh, no, sir! We never remarked it.' He asked old Savyeli,-- There's one thing,' he answered, 'That might make one think 250 That Matrona 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 Djomushka'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