Florence Randal Livesay

From “Slavic Songs”

Brother, whence comest thou?

From beyond Dunai?

What heardest thou in Ukraine?

Nothing have I heard,

Nothing have I seen

But horsemen on four sides.

The Russians have covered the mountain.

On that mountain a Turkish horse stands;

On the horse sits a Turk’s young son.

In his right hand he holds a sword;

From his left blood flows.

On that hill a crow is calling,

And a mother cries over her soldier son.

“Don’t cry, mother, do not grieve;

I am wounded, but not badly.

My head, in four pieces; my heart, in six;

My white hands in three pieces,

My white fingers in pieces,

My white body is as fine as poppy-seed.

“Look for a doctor, mother—

The doctor, the young carpenter.

Let him build for me a house

Without doors or windows,

For now am I at the end of my life.”