Who Can Be Happy and Free in Russia?

By the will of the peasant
  Because he is foolish 650
They treat you as master
  To-day. But to-morrow
The ball will be ended;

  A good kick behind
We will give the Pomyéshchick,
  And tail between legs
Send him back to his dwelling
  To leave us in peace!'

  "The Barin is gasping,
'You rebel … you rebel!' 660

  He trembles all over,
Half-dead he has fallen,
  And lies on the earth!

  "The end! think the others,
The black-moustached footguards,
  The beautiful ladies;
But they are mistaken;
  It isn't the end.

  "An order: to summon
The village together 670
  To witness the punishment
Dealt to the rebel
  Before the Pomyéshchick….

The heirs and the ladies
  Come running in terror
To Klím, to Petrov,
  And to me: 'Only save us!'
Their faces are pale,
    'If the trick is discovered
We're lost!' 680

             It is Klím's place
To deal with the matter:

  He drinks with Petrov
All day long, till the evening,
  Embracing him fondly.
Together till midnight
  They pace round the village,
At midnight start drinking
  Again till the morning.

Petrov is as tipsy 690
  As ever man was,
And like that he is brought
  To the Barin's large courtyard,
And all is perfection!

  The Barin can't move
From the balcony, thanks
  To his yesterday's shaking.

And Klím is well pleased.
  "He leads Petrov into
The stable and sets him 700
  In front of a gallon
Of vodka, and tells him:

  'Now, drink and start crying,
''Oh, oh, little Fathers!
  Oh, oh, little Mothers!
Have mercy! Have mercy!'''

  "Petrov does his bidding;
He howls, and the Barin,
  Perched up on the balcony,
Listens in rapture. 710

  He drinks in the sound
Like the loveliest music.

  And who could help laughing
To hear him exclaiming,
  'Don't spare him, the villain!
The im-pu-dent rascal!
  Just teach him a lesson!'

Petrov yells aloud
  Till the vodka is finished.
Of course in the end 720
He is perfectly helpless,
  And four peasants carry him
Out of the stable.

  His state is so sorry
That even the Barin
  Has pity upon him,
And says to him sweetly,

  'Your own fault it is,
Little peasant, you know!'"

"You see what a kind heart 730
  He has, the Pomyéshchick,"
Says Prov, and old Vlásuchka
  Answers him quietly,

"A saying there is:
  'Praise the grass—in the haystack,
The lord—in his coffin.'

  "Twere well if God took him.
Petrov is no longer
  Alive. That same evening
He started up, raving, 740
At midnight the pope came,
  And just as the day dawned
He died. He was buried,
  A cross set above him,
And God alone knows
  What he died of. It's certain
That we never touched him,
  Nay, not with a finger,
Much less with a stick.

  Yet sometimes the thought comes:
Perhaps if that accident 751
  Never had happened
Petrov would be living.

  You see, friends, the peasant
Was proud more than others,
  He carried his head high,
And never had bent it,
  And now of a sudden—
Lie down for the Barin!
  Fall flat for his pleasure! 760

The thing went off well,
  But Petrov had not wished it.
I think he was frightened
  To anger the commune
By not giving in,
  And the commune is foolish,
It soon will destroy you….

  The ladies were ready
To kiss the old peasant,
  They brought fifty roubles 770
For him, and some dainties.

  'Twas Klímka, the scamp,
The unscrupulous sinner,
  Who worked his undoing….

  "A servant is coming
To us from the Barin,
  They've finished their lunch.
Perhaps they have sent him
  To summon the Elder.
I'll go and look on 780
  At the comedy there."