Page:The Kobzar of the Ukraine.pdf/45

Rh

NE fine Sunday,
 * in the bright sunlight,

All dressed up
 * in blouses white,

The old folks sat
 * on the bench by the door;

No cloud in sky,
 * What could they ask more?

All peace and love
 * it seemed like Eden.

Yet angels above
 * their hearts might read in.

A hidden sorrow,
 * a gloomy mood

Like lurking beast
 * in darksome wood.

In such a heaven
 * Oh, do you see

Whatever could
 * the trouble be?

I wonder now
 * what ancient sorrow

Suddenly sprang
 * into their morrow.

Was it quarrel
 * of yesterday

Choked off, then
 * revived today,

Or yet some newly sprouted ire Arisen to set their heaven on fire?