Matróna Korchágin Does not seem astonished, But only a sad look 460 Creeps into her eyes, And her face becomes thoughtful.
"Your errand is surely A foolish one, brothers," She says to the peasants, "For this is the season Of work, and no peasant For chatter has time."
"Till now on our journey Throughout half the Empire 470 We've met no denial," The peasants protest.
"But look for yourselves, now, The corn-ears are bursting. We've not enough hands."
"And we? What are we for? Just give us some sickles, And see if we don't Get some work done to-morrow!" The peasants reply. 480
Matróna sees clearly Enough that this offer Must not be rejected; "Agreed," she said, smiling, "To such lusty fellows As you, we may well look For ten sheaves apiece."
"You give us your promise To open your heart to us?"
Matróna Korchágin Now enters her cottage, And while she is working Within it, the peasants Discover a very Nice spot just behind it, And sit themselves down. There's a barn close beside them And two immense haystacks, A flax-field around them; 500 And lying just near them A fine plot of turnips, And spreading above them A wonderful oak-tree, A king among oaks. They're sitting beneath it, And now they're producing The magic white napkin: "Heh, napkin enchanted, Give food to the peasants!" 510 The napkin unfolds, Two hands have come floating From no one sees where, Place a pailful of vodka, A large pile of bread On the magic white napkin, And dwindle away. The two brothers Goóbin Are chuckling together, For they have just pilfered 520 A very big horse-radish Out of the garden-- It's really a monster!
The skies are dark blue now, The bright stars are twinkling, The moon has arisen And sails high above them; The woman Matróna Comes out of the cottage To tell them her tale. 530
"My girlhood was happy, For we were a thrifty Arid diligent household; And I, the young maiden, With Father and Mother Knew nothing but joy. My father got up And went out before sunrise, He woke me with kisses And tender caresses; 10 My brother, while dressing, Would sing little verses: 'Get up, little Sister, Get up, little Sister, In no little beds now Are people delaying, In all little churches The peasants are praying, Get up, now, get up, It is time, little Sister. 20 The shepherd has gone To the field with the sheep, And no little maidens Are lying asleep, They've gone to pick raspberries, Merrily singing. The sound of the axe In the forest is ringing.'