Have ceased, that we no longer sing in public

Hymns to Christ Jesus on the field of blood;

That we no more are burnt in public places,

Or that the tsar no longer with his sceptre

Rakes in the ashes? Is there any safety

In our poor life? Each day disgrace awaits us;

The dungeon or Siberia, cowl or fetters,

And then in some deaf nook a starving death,

Or else the halter. Where are the most renowned

Of all our houses, where the Sitsky princes,

Where are the Shestunovs, where the Romanovs,

Hope of our fatherland? Imprisoned, tortured,

In exile. Do but wait, and a like fate

Will soon be thine. Think of it! Here at home,

Just as in Lithuania, we're beset

By treacherous slaves - and tongues are ever ready

For base betrayal, thieves bribed by the State.

We hang upon the word of the first servant

Whom we may please to punish. Then he bethought him

To take from us our privilege of hiring

Our serfs at will; we are no longer masters

Of our own lands. Presume not to dismiss

An idler. Willy nilly, thou must feed him!

Presume not to outbid a man in hiring

A labourer, or you will find yourself

In the Court's clutches. - Was such an evil heard of

Even under tsar Ivan? And are the people

The better off? Ask them. Let the pretender

But promise them the old free right of transfer,

Then there'll be sport.

SHUISKY. Thou'rt right; but be advised;

Of this, of all things, for a time we'll speak

No word.

PUSHKIN. Assuredly, keep thine own counsel.