POEM OF THE FIELDS

The neighbours came, the beer they praised, 
They praised the newborn too, 
Then left, too dazed to give the babe 
The blessing that was due.

Her brothers gave her apples bright, 
Her mother silks to wear. 
She'd feast her eyes on butterflies 
When spring was in the air.

The autumn cranes called out her name, 
With the hilltop breeze she played. 
Born to the freedom of the fields, 
Like a roe deer grew the maid.

Seeing her prance in country dance 
The firs would dizzily spin, 
The alder tree laugh merrily, 
Lads bare their arms and grin.

To rake and loom accustomed soon, 
She rose with the rising sun 
And like a slave toiled six long days –
Then Sunday's rest would come.

Rue in her prayer-book she'd press, 
Don a scarf her brother had bought, 
Sit in a cart and race the wind 
Like a princess riding to court.

When everyone in church was singing
Her sweet voice all could tell.
Folk said: "No Easter bell is sweeter..."
"No organ sounds so well..."

The matchmakers were plied with beer,
Their horses stamped outside.
"I've got no chest for my dowry yet..."
She'd say. "The rue froze and died..."

The old man sucking his pipe agreed: 
"Why wed? For your brothers care! 
Better one summer more to live lark-free 
With yellow rue in your hair."

But one she loved came seeking her hand. 
"Why await old age?" he said. 
A sleigh sped through deep snow. The banns 
In the nearby church were read.

His friends came for the dowry, brought 
His invitation soft. 
Away she rode through driving snow 
To a parish a long way off.

But false his words were and he beat her 
Cruelly day and night 
And no one saw her dance any more, 
Nor knew her terrible plight.

As fleet as roe deer, days flew by,
Years passed like elks in fog,
And starless was the bleak night sky,
Her pillow hard as a log

The way back home had long been ploughed, 
At the looms there sat young brides. 
Her fate she bore. Now the girl of yore 
Was a crone who sat and cried.

To church she wore her maiden scarf 
And sang as in years past.
But crushed by grief beyond belief 
At the church-door she collapsed.

In a coffin her weak frame they laid 
They placed her on a sleigh 
And on the wings of the winter wind 
All the saints were heard to pray.

Folk merry made at her funeral wake 
But no one shed a tear. 
Her dog alone howled all night long 
By the barn for all to hear.

Translated by Peter Tempest

Born in a peasant family in the village of Vidugiriai, Kazys Inčiūra studied in the arts department of Kaunas University and in 1930 graduated from the acting school of the Kaunas Drama Theatre. From 1945 to 1951 he was an actor at the Vilnius Drama Theatre. His verse was first published in 1925. In his verse collections Together with Youth (1928), In the Land of Quiet Sunsets (1930) and White Knights (1936), basing himself on the poetic system of Neo-Romanticism, he combined a poetic treatment of country life with singing tone of verse and folklore stylisation. Inciura also wrote short stories, several plays and librettos for operas.