Poem “The Struggle for Existence”, dedicated to Darwin, about a summer on the Istra

I read Yegor Kholmogorov's thorough rebuke of believers in Darwinism, and recalled a poem by the satirist Pyotr Shumakher (1817-1891), dedicated to Darwin himself.

The Struggle for Existence (Dedicated to Darwin)

I was on the Istra this summer,
In a remote, forgotten corner;
I lived as a contemplative poet,
And breathed so easily.

With me was my faithful dog Trezorka,
I rose early in the morning,
Picked wild strawberries by the knoll
And in the heat lay in the damp pinewood.

I wandered in reveries, like a wild man,
In the fragrant meadow among the bushes
And came home weary
With a bunch of the loveliest flowers.

Dinner: bread, butter, soft-boiled eggs;
Then I drank tea; and in the evening,
Having treated the crested hen to a grain,
I gave the lamb its milk.

Two swallows darted swiftly
Up under the eaves, to their dear nest;
At night the Istra murmured me a song
And a nightingale whistled in the garden!..

All passed away like a beautiful dream!
But I grow sad when I remember
By what a terrible death
All my friends perished.

The little chirping swallows at my window
Are not fated to be seen again:
They fell into the paws of a cat,
And their nest was destroyed;

My crested hen a keen-eyed hawk
Seized and soared with her to the heavens;
The wolf bounded into the dark forest with Trezorka,
And the lamb I ate — myself.

Literal translation