The Desolation of Roslavl
75
"Daddy, Daddy, the cattle are all drowned in the marsh." I ran to him. The herd of cattle were twisting and writhing in the bog. Bellowing. And among them I saw mine.
He spoke sadly but calmly about the death of his wife, about his land that had "cost so much money." But
—I'd rather have been blinded than see such a sight. A second ruin. All my property perishing in the quagmire, and I stand on the road and become a beggar.
Three horses died on the way.
One remained. A little shaggy horse, ten years old, but active.
In Roslavl he found a kind man who permitted him to live in his banya, bath-house.
A black banya.
—But that was a palace!
Day and night I never cease to pray to
