Inside there was no partition in the poor tower,
and it was open from end to end. Around the walls
hang his bows, with a sword as a belt,
a carved axe with an iron handle,
his ever-burning oil lamp before an icon
that showed the Resurrection, and there hung,
as a vow, as a pilgrimage offering, the fearsome sling.
And scattered here and there, all kinds of household tools:
a kneading trough, a bread board, a pestle and mortar,
the spindle with its yarns, the winding reel, the distaff,
the loom with its woollen, multicoloured fabrics,
and a basket with curds near the chimney,
and the lamp stand in the corner, and a salt container,
and the poor man’s copperware and flax combs,
and the farmer’s tools: goads, fruit-pickers,
and pitchforks in plenty, and bundles of spare harness,
and two motionless loaves with yeast dough, which friends
together with two draught animals sent to the ploughman
when they learned of the misfortune that unexpectedly befell him…
