Page:The Kobzar of the Ukraine.pdf/19

How hard was life without the walls.
Again the monk his cell floor paces
'Mid the silent walls his life retraces.
The sacred book he holds in hand
And loudly reads,
The old man's mind to Cossack land
Swiftly speeds.
Now holy words do fade away,
The monkish cell turns Cossack den,
The glorious brotherhood lives again.
The gray old captain, like an owl
Peers beneath the monkish cowl.
Music, dances, the city's calls,
Rattling fetters, Moscow's walls,
O'er woods and snows
his eyes can see
The banks of distant Yenisee.
Upon his soul deep gloom has crept
And thus the monk in sadness wept.

Down, Down! Bow thy head;
On thy fleshly cravings tread.
In the sacred writings read
Read, read, to the bell give heed,
Thy heart too long has ruled thee.
All thy life it's fooled thee.
Thy heart to exile led thee,
Now let it silent be.
As all things pass away,
So thou shalt pass away.