XII The Mother
When the bridal party is going to the bridegroom’s house
As it came to the dawning I awoke:
Swift I looked in the Courtyard grey—
There but now her fine sleigh stayed,
While the prancing horses neighed
That bore my Marusenka away.
“Am I no more your child?” she said,
“That from your side you send me so
Just ere the coming of the night?
Give me a friend in this my plight—
My songster Solowi13 must go.
“For its sweet piping I would hear
At peep of day to waken me—
She, my new mother, will not call,
Instead, she slanders—cruel words all—
‘Useless this bride as rotten tree!’”