Page:Five Russian plays and one Ukrainian.pdf/192

 : My right hand was strong; who could overcome it? Did I then say to myself: “Happy am I; I have my right arm”? Spake I ever thus: “Right arm, know thou art mine!” But the evil foe wounded my hand and cut off my right arm. Whom shall I overcome now? Who will not overcome me? Day and night I say to myself, “O misery, where is my hand? ”I look upon my shoulder and weep, “Right arm, how forget thee?” (He quietly touches the strings. The people weep.)

My father had a rich vineyard, my mother a green garden. I walked in it, plucked the berries and trampled the leaves with my feet. An evil neighbour set fire to our vineyard and wasted the green garden. The vine was burned, the berries dropped and its glorious beauty fell to ashes. If I find beneath my feet, be it only one leaf, I shall press it to my heart, Dear brothers, say, has none of you, be it only one leaf from my vine? (The strings sound still more sadly, and the weeping becomes louder.)

I dreamed a dread dream—who shall divine it? ’Twas as if I fell into the hands of the enemies. What have they done to me, my terrible enemies?