Only One!

Only One!

Her hair flows down like a river’s stream,
So slender, like a wheat stalk’s gleam,
With a black apron tied at the seam,
I lose her from my sight, beloved.

And when I see her, I turn pale;
When I don’t, I grow frail,
And when others come to court her tale,
Priests arrive to lift my curse.

In street-side talks, three hours fly,
She leaves, I pretend to say goodbye,
But linger there and watch her nigh,
My eyes stretched far as skies allow.

Though poor she is, as plain can be,
I’d have her still as wife to me,
But evil folk from worlds unfree
Keep blocking every path I tread.

And oh, the words I hear each day!
My brothers mock me in their way,
And father scolds me, come what may,
While mother, near her icons,
Crosses herself, fasts with zest;
She curses me: “Had you not been blessed!
You fool! You’ve lost your wit and rest,
You’ve lost your mind, Ioane!”

I’ve lost my mind? Then let it be!
I’ll make my peace with poverty,
And live a life of toil, carefree,
Though troubles beat me daily!
From brothers, I’ll seek no hand,
For I’m not begging in this land,
I’ll do as I please, and make my stand,
Unburdened by my fate’s demands!

They bury me alive, my kin!
For loving her, is it a sin?
To bind myself to one so thin,
And dream of the impossible?
But what’s the land worth, tell me, dear?
What use are oxen, cows held near?
If you don’t love your wife sincere,
You’d curse it all to thunder!

Is there a man, by anyone’s might,
Who loves just what others find right?
No bishop is so, nor king in sight,
Nor emperor of power!
Let people talk as much as they will,
She’s mine alone, I love her still;
And rather than let go, I will—
Set fire to the whole damn village!