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A poor little lark    In the flax has been captured; 60  It struggles for freedom.
  Pakhóm picks it up,  He kisses it tenderly:
  "Fly, little birdie!" …  The lark flies away  To the blue heights of Heaven;
  The kind-hearted peasants  Gaze lovingly upwards    To see it rejoice  In the freedom above…. 70
  The peas have come on, too;  Like locusts, the peasants    Attack them and eat them.
They're like a plump maiden—   The peas—for whoever Goes by must needs pinch them.
  Now peas are being carried In old hands, in young hands,   They're spreading abroad Over seventy high-roads. 80
  The vegetables—how They're flourishing also!
  Each toddler is clasping A radish or carrot,   And many are cracking The seeds of the sunflower.
  The beetroots are dotted Like little red slippers   All over the earth.
  Our peasants are walking, 90 Now faster—now slower.
  At last they have reached it— The village 'Stripped-Naked,'   It's not much to look at: Each hut is propped up   Like a beggar on crutches; The thatch from the roofs   Has made food for the cattle; The huts are like feeble   Old skeletons standing, 100 Like desolate rooks' nests   When young birds forsake them.
When wild Autumn winds   Have dismantled the birch-trees. The people are all   In the fields; they are working.
Behind the poor village   A manor is standing; It's built on the slope   Of a hill, and the peasants 110 Are making towards it   To look at it close.
The house is gigantic, The courtyard is huge,   There's a pond in it too;
A watch-tower arises   From over the house, With a gallery round it,   A flagstaff upon it.
  They meet with a lackey 120   Near one of the gates: He seems to be wearing   A strange kind of mantle;
"Well, what are you up to?"   He says to the friends, "The Pomyéshchick's abroad now,   The manager's dying."
He shows them his back,   And they all begin laughing: A tiger is clutching 130   The edge of his shoulders!
"Heh! here's a fine joke!"   They are hotly discussing
What kind of a mantle   The lackey is wearing, Till clever Pakhóm   Has got hold of the riddle.
  "The cunning old rascal, He's stolen a carpet,   And cut in the middle 140 A hole for his head!"
  Like weak, straddling beetles Shut up to be frozen   In cold empty huts By the pitiless peasants.
The servants are crawling   All over the courtyard.
Their master long since   Has forgotten about them, And left them to live 150   As they can. They are hungry, All old and decrepit, And dressed in all manners,   They look like a crowd In a gipsy encampment.
  And some are now dragging A net through the pond:
  "God come to your help! Have you caught something, brothers?"
  "One carp—nothing more; 160 There used once to be many, But now we have come   To the end of the feast!"
"Do try to get five!"   Says a pale, pregnant woman, Who's fervently blowing   A fire near the pond.
"And what are those pretty   Carved poles you are burning? They're balcony railings, 170   I think, are they not?"
"Yes, balcony railings."   "See here. They're like tinder; Don't blow on them, Mother!   I bet they'll burn faster Than you find the victuals   To cook in the pot!"
  "I'm waiting and waiting, And Mítyenka sickens   Because of the musty 180 Old bread that I give him.   But what can I do? This life—it is bitter!"
  She fondles the head Of a half-naked baby   Who sits by her side In a little brass basin,   A button-nosed mite.
  "The boy will take cold there, The basin will chill him," 190
  Says Prov; and he wishes To lift the child up,   But it screams at him, angry. "No, no! Don't you touch him,"   The mother says quickly, "Why, can you not see   That's his carriage he's driving? Drive on, little carriage!   Gee-up, little horses! You see how he drives!" 200
  The peasants each moment Observe some new marvel;   And soon they have noticed A strange kind of labour   Proceeding around them: One man, it appears,   To the door has got fastened; He's toiling away   To unscrew the brass handles, His hands are so weak 210   He can scarcely control them.
Another is hugging   Some tiles: "See, Yegórshka, I've dug quite a heap out!"
  Some children are shaking An apple-tree yonder:
  "You see, little Uncles,   There aren't many left, Though the tree was quite heavy."
  "But why do you want them? 220 They're quite hard and green."
  "We're thankful to get them!" The peasants examine   The park for a long time; Such wonders are seen here,   Such cunning inventions:
In one place a mountain   Is raised; in another A ravine yawns deep!