The Russians took for granted
Without the slightest doubt
That, since they drowned god Perun,
They needs must go without.
And since of such procedure
They never heard before.
They dredded that their future
Strange horrors held in store.
This world, though, is unchanging,
While humans there abide—
And spitting in the ocean
Will never turn its tide.
The Ship of State in Russia
Ran on an even keel,
Without Perun, as smoothly
As would a spinning wheel.
Old people died, and children
Were born as of yore—
The toper drank, the laborer
Worked as he did before.
Plums ripened in the autumn,
So did the luscious pear—
And after the rainy weather
The sky again was fair.
The sun shone but in daytime,
The moon but shone at night;
The summer’s heat molested
The Tsar, despite his might.
Corn, wheat, had to be planted,
Weeds grew with disregard;
Nobility was idle,
The peasant labored hard.
[44]
