|Vasily Polenov, 1881|
You have plowed the field faithfully all your life,
Now at the roadside your body lies broken.
Poor lost son of Shurikoi, how did you deserve this fate?
You blocked the path of evil men. Your throat they slit,
And the Permyaks they went to slaughter.
Precious son of Shurikoi, from where have you come?
Our lost daughter came home at last from afar,
With guests from Permia by chance a-passing:
Helpless folk whose world was lost in the deluge,
Then the abandoned girl they found and took as their own;
The little one, from infancy they suckled.
Sweet daughter of Shurikoi, how glad the reunion!
Into her old mother's embrace she dove,
Four lines of tears like rivers a-flowing.
Our chief's icy heart became as meltwater,
So moved, that he allotted the wanderers a place to live.
And in the following winter, a baby son she bore.
Beloved son of Shurikoi, how well you grew!
You never uttered a word, yet grew as strong as oxen,
And to the plow and harness they consigned you.
How we have insulted you, belittled you; yet you stood strong,
In your only lucid moment of life, life itself you sacrificed.
O Sainted Son of Shurikoi, hear our thanks in Paradise!