III. In the Store

Some with shawls, some with scarves,
as though to some heroic enterprise or to work,
into the store one by one
the women silently come.
Oh, the rattling of their cans,
the clanking of bottles and pans!
There's a smell of onions, cucumbers,
a smell of “Kabul” sauce.
I'm shivering as I queue up for the cash desk,
but as I inch forward towards it,
from the breath of so many women
a warmth spreads round the store.
They wait quietly,
their families' guardian angels,
and they grasp in their hands
their hard-earned money.
They wait quietly
their families' guardian angels,
and they grasp in their hands
their hard-earned money.
These are the women of Russia.
They honor us and they judge us.
They have mixed concrete,
and ploughed, and harvested ...
They have endured everything,
they will continue to endure everything.
They have endured everything,
they will continue to endure everything.
Nothing in the world is beyond them —
they have been granted such strength!
It is shameful to short-change them!
It is sinful to short-weight them!
As I shove dumplings into my pocket,
I sternly and quietly observe
their pious hands
weary from carrying their shopping bags.