COSSACK MARCHING SONG
(Sixteenth Century)
Cossacks whistled! They were marching,
Marching far away at midnight....
Dark-brown eyes of Marusenka
They will soon be blind from weeping.
“Weep not, weep not, Marusenka,
Be not sad—rise from thy sorrow!
Pray the good God for thy dearest.”
Rose the moon in windless silence—
To the Cossack spake his mother,
Her farewell with tears was given:
“Go, then, go, my little son, now!
Go, but see thou’rt not long absent.
Come back when four weeks are over.”
“Gladly would I, O my Mother,
Come before a month is over,
But ... my horse, my black horse splendid
Stumbled with me at our gateway!
Oi! God knows—all’s in His willing—
Whether I return home safely,
Or on bloody field should lay me.
Time of my return God knoweth,
Only He—As thine own daughter
Keep my Marusenka by thee....
Hai! Don’t weep and don’t be sorry:
Under me my horse is dancing,
Prancing and curvetting proudly,
Home ere long you may expect me!”