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THE VILLAGE FAIR
Nicholas Nekrassov
(Translated from the Russian by Juliet M. Soskice)
Our peasants determine
To see the shop windows,
The handkerchiefs, ribbons,
And stuffs of bright color;
And near to the boot-shop
Is fresh cause for laughter;
For here an old peasant
Most eagerly bargains
For small boots of goat-skin
To give to his grandchild.
He asks the price five times;
Again and again
He has turned them all over;
He finds they are faultless.
“Well, Uncle, pay up now,
Or else be off quickly.”
The seller says sharply.
But wait! the old fellow
Still gazes, and fondles
The tiny boots softly,
And then speaks in this wise:
“My daughter won’t scold me,
My wife — let her grumble —
My poor little grandchild
She clung to my neck.
And she said, ‘Little Grandfather,
Buy me a present/
“Her soft little ringlets
Were tickling my cheek.
And she kissed the old Grand-dad.
You wait, little bare-foot.
Wee spinning-top, wait then,
Some boots I will buy you.
Some boots made of goat-skin”
And then must old Vavil
Begin to boast grandly,
To promise a present
To old and to young.
But now his last farthing
Is swallowed. …
Then came forward
Pavloosha Varenko;
He now rescued Vavil,
And bought him the boots
To take home to his grand-child.
The old man fled blindly.
But clasping them tightly,
Forgetting to thank him,
Bewildered with joy.
The crowd was as pleased, too,
As if had been given
To each one a rouble —
