THE RETURNED EXILE
Russian Folk Songs with English Translations p 30 # 25

O'er long wea-ry miles of Si-be-ria,
Where gold, so they tell, once was found
A-lone passed a sor-row-ful wan-d'rer,
His back bent, his eyes on the ground.

A knapsack was chafing his shoulder,
There jangled a pot by his side;
Long months had he wandered through taiga,
So weary he well-nigh had died.

So scarecrow is clad so in tatters,
Sad rent after rent thorns had torn,
He had yet the blue cap, the grey smock
In exile, a pris'ner had worn.

the wide lake of Baikal at last reached,
A fisherman ferried him o'er;
Then softly he sang of his homeland,
a song that he loved well of youre,

He sang of his father, his mother,
His children, his sorrowing wife,
Oh have they forgotten the exile,
That tyrants had banished for life?

Still onward he journey'd and onward,
His own house at long last to see;
And there by the door stood his mother,
Oh Mother, is all well with thee?

Thy father, he died broken hearted,
See, there, by the church is his grave;
from exile, as thine was, thy brother
Our pleading, our pray'rs, might not save.

but yet stands thine own house in safety,
For thee thy beloved ones yearn;
At morning, at night, they are praying
That thou to their side wilt return.