YAKIMY—OLD FOLK SONG
Yesterday between the even
And the cock-crow went Yakimy,
Softly went he to the widow,
None was there to see.
Welcoming, she held in greeting
Both his hands—“How com’st thou, sweetheart?...
It is time, my Heart, my lover—
Go now, slay thy wife!”
To his wife then crept Yakimy,
But he found no heart to strike her—
“You were married at the altar,
Pretty little bird!”
With entreating words she pleaded,
Begging him to leave her living....
“She was married at the altar,”
So the widow heard.
“She looked pretty as a swallow,
My true wife, my shlubnazhinka,
She doth beg so hard for life now,
How am I to kill?”
“Hearken not to her, Yakimy,
Listen not, young Yakimonko,
Take a sword and go behind her,
And behead her swift.”
So he stole behind and slew her.
Then he whispered to the widow:
“How to slay her you have shown me,
But—the deed to hide?”
“Make a fire in the oven,
Block the flue up very tightly,
So the smoke will not ascend there:
‘She was crazy,’ say.
“Later leave her in the forest,
Say that she in foolish dreaming
Lit a fire to warm herself by,
Perished in the flame.”
Listening, Yakimy’s neighbour
Heard his baby crying, crying:
“Where’s your wife, O young Yakimy,
That your child cries so?”
“She just went now to the forest
To her sister for a visit,
She forgot her little baby,
She forgot her child!”
· · · · ·
Topmost on a forest nut-tree
Was the little Cuckoo calling:
“They take away the young Yakimy,
Fetters on his hands!”
At a little inn they rested.
Yakim drank to drown his sorrow:
“Through the widow, cursèd widow,
I have lost my wife!”