XIII

In the green garden is fresh-fallen snow;
Horses are galloping to and fro.

A mother follows the hoof-marks deep:
“My Marusenka, where dost thou sleep?

“Help me, O Lord, her steps to trace!
Home I would take her from this place.

“Come, Marusenka, come to me!
If now ill-treated thou mayst be.”

She is not in her small white bed.
She sleeps upon the straw instead.

“In what straw, pray, now lieth she?”
She lieth in the rough barley.

“Whose barley pillows now her breast?”
A neighbour’s barley gives her rest.