Cutters dissected Guts of a whale with a whack... No one’s expected Shots from behind in his back... Batteries gunning, Leaving no shells in reserve... You should be running Fast on a curve! Mainsail! It’s torn and ruined! I repent and rue it! Craving a battle Often you’d find no foes... It doesn’t matter If you got aching toes... Creaking door-hinges, Chanting to guests, would begin: “Who are you, strangers? Don’t you come in!” Mainsail! It’s torn and ruined! I repent and rue it! Praises and cheers To those who sleep and sing!.. Two hemispheres Soon in the sea may sink... Continents flaming Maiming your brain and spine, But I am claiming - It is not mine! Mainsail! It’s torn and ruined! I repent and rue it!
© George Tokarev. Translation, 2001
Edited by Robert Titterton