"He stood without moving; He crossed himself thrice And continued his reading. But when I grew calmer 370 Savyeli approached me, And said to me gently, 'In winter, Matrona, I told you my story, But yet there was more. Our forests were endless, Our lakes wild and lonely, Our people were savage; By cruelty lived we: By snaring the wood-grouse, 380 By slaying the bears:-- You must kill or you perish! I've told you of Barin Shalashnikov, also Of how we were robbed By the villainous German, And then of the prison, The exile, the mines. My heart was like stone, I grew wild and ferocious. 390 My winter had lasted A century, Grandchild, But your little Djoma Had melted its frosts. One day as I rocked him He smiled of a sudden, And I smiled in answer.... A strange thing befell me Some days after that: As I prowled in the forest 400 I aimed at a squirrel; But suddenly noticed How happy and playful It was, in the branches: Its bright little face With its paw it sat washing. I lowered my gun:-- 'You shall live, little squirrel!' I rambled about In the woods, in the meadows, 410 And each tiny floweret I loved. I went home then And nursed little Djoma, And played with him, laughing. God knows how I loved him, The innocent babe! And now ... through my folly, My sin, ... he has perished.... Upbraid me and kill me, But nothing can help you, 420 With God one can't argue.... Stand up now, Matrona, And pray for your baby; God acted with reason: He's counted the joys In the life of a peasant!' "Long, long did Savyeli Stand bitterly speaking, The piteous fate Of the peasant he painted; 430 And if a rich Barin, A merchant or noble, If even our Father The Tsar had been listening, Savyeli could not Have found words which were truer, Have spoken them better.... "'Now Djoma is happy And safe, in God's Heaven,' He said to me later. 440 His tears began falling.... "'I do not complain That God took him, Savyeli,' I said,--'but the insult They did him torments me, It's racking my heart. Why did vicious black ravens Alight on his body And tear it to pieces? Will neither our God 450 Nor our Tsar--Little Father-- Arise to defend us?' "'But God, little Grandchild, Is high, and the Tsar Far away,' said Savyeli. "I cried, 'Yet I'll reach them!' "But Grandfather answered, 'Now hush, little Grandchild, You woman of sorrow, Bow down and have patience; 460 No truth you will find In the world, and no justice.' "'But why then, Savyeli?' "'A bondswoman, Grandchild, You are; and for such Is no hope,' said Savyeli.