At once like an envoy
Of God she appears.
She nurses and fosters
And buries the peasants.
The women adore her,
They pray to her almost. 140

It's evident, then,
That the door of the peasant
Is easily opened:
Just knock, and be certain
He'll gladly admit you.
He's never suspicious
Like wealthier people;
The thought does not strike him
At sight of the humble
And destitute stranger, 150
"Perhaps he's a thief!"
And as to the women,
They're simply delighted,
They'll welcome you warmly.

At night, in the Winter,
The family gathered
To work in the cottage
By light of "luchina," [57]
Are charmed by the pilgrim's
Remarkable stories. 160
He's washed in the steam-bath,
And dipped with his spoon