“Eat your
Tyurya — bread crumbled into kvass or water, the Russian peasant’s food when there was nothing else.
, Yasha!
There’s no milk, you see!”
“Where’s our little cow gone?”
“They took her, my love!
The master led her home
To breed calves for him!”
What a fine life the people have
In holy Rus!
“Where have our hens gone?”
The little girls cry.
“Stop your crying, silly things!
The district court ate them;
It took a cart as well
And promised to quarter soldiers here…”
What a fine life the people have
In holy Rus!
The moment they are out of childhood,
Look — the children are gone:
The tsar takes the boys,
The master the daughters!
Only the cripple is left
To live out his days at home.
What a fine life the people have
In holy Rus!
In holy Rus (what a fine life the people have!)
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