I strain myself out of all my might and sinew, But today, just like yesterday, I am close rounded. They’ve cornered me, for God’s sake! They are keeping after, joyfully driving me at all speeds! The rifles behind the fir-trees are keeping themselves busy - There, the hunters hide in the shadows - The wolves are frolicking on the snow, Turned into a live target. The hunt is on! The hunt on wolves, On gray beasts, full-grown and puppies! The beaters shout and the hounds bark until they’re retching, There is blood on snow and red spots of flags. It’s not a fair game they are playing, But no hand trembles, - Our freedom blocked by flags, They strike safely, for sure! A wolf can’t fail his customs, - Long time ago-blind puppies, We, little ones, sucked our mother, And sucked in: don’t go outside of flags! The hunt is on! The hunt on wolves, On gray beasts, full-grown and puppies! The beaters shout and the hounds bark until they’re retching, There is blood on snow and red spots of flags. Our feet and jaws are swift, Tell us, our leader, - why do we then Rush onward, into the shots, And not through the restraint?! A wolf can not, must not do otherwise. Now my time has ended: The one I am intended for, Smiled and raised his rifle. The hunt is on! The hunt on wolves, On gray beasts, full-grown and puppies! The beaters shout and the hounds bark until they’re retching, There is blood on snow and red spots of flags. I came out of the obedience trance - Beyond the flags - my thirst for life is stronger, Behind me I heard triumphantly Their bewildered cries. I strain myself out of all my might and sinew, But today, not like yesterday, I was close rounded. They’ve cornered me, for God’s sake! But the hunters were left with nothing! The hunt is on! The hunt on wolves, On gray beasts, full-grown and puppies! The beaters shout and the hounds bark until they’re retching, There is blood on snow and red spots of flags.
© Nellie Tkach. Translation, 1998