I was tired; I couldn't rest

She went to the sheaves and wandered around

To feed her son Ivan.

The baby was crying out in his swaddling clothes

In the cold behind the sheaf.

She swaddled him, fed him,

She caressed him, and it was like a dream,

Sitting over her son, she dozed off.

And she dreams of her son Ivan

Both ugly and rich,

Not single, but married.

On the free, she sees, because he himself

No longer a slave, but free;

And in his merry field

They reap their own wheat,

And the children bring lunch.

And the niece smiled,

She woke up and found nothing...

She looked at her son and took him,

She swaddled him quietly

To make it to lunch,

She went to wait for the cop.