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THE PEASANT

    As I was getting ready to go inside a house, to preach,  in the small village of Matsie,  I saw this man on his haywagon.   It is my favorite picture taken on my mission trip.
    Below the picture is a poem written by Belarrusian's number one poet YANKA KUPALA.  I was deeply touched by it.
 

          A PEASANT
That I'm a peasant, all must know
And far and near - the world's like that -
I'm scoffed at everywhere I go-
Since I'm a peasant, a simple chap.

I cannot read and write, and so
My tongue but roughly starts to clap,
And all my life I plough and sow
Since I'm a peasant, a simple chap.

By heavy toil I gain my bread,
Put up with curses, take the rap.
Holidays come: I work instead
Since I'm a peasant, a simple chap.

Without a crust my children cry,
My wife's in rags, without a wrap.
Without a penny I get by
 Since I'm a peasant, a simple chap.

The bitter sweat drips in my eyes,
And old or young, it's my mishap
To work the whole day, oxen-wise
Since I'm a peasant, a simple chap.

In sickness and in need I lie:
I cure myself somehow, mayhap!
For me no doctor will come nigh -
Since I'm a peasant, a simple chap.

And naked I'm condemned to rot,
Like forest mushrooms, from the scab,
Or like a mangy dog to drop
Since I'm a peasant, a simple chap.

But if my life is swiftly sped,
Or if I live a longer span,
I never, brother, shall forget
That though a peasant, I'm a man!

 YANKA KUPALA (1882-1942)

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