Iím at my witís end, tendons taut. But like yesterday, again today Theyíve surrounded me, surrounded me, Driving me happily for the flags. From the pines - double-barrel flashes. Hunters lurk there in shadow. Wolves somersault in the snow, Living targets. Itís a wolf hunt, a wolf hunt! The drivers yell at the gray beasts of prey, At old-timers and pups alike! And the dogs bay until they vomit. Blood on the snow and the red spots of flags. The hunters donít play fair with wolves, And their hands never quiver! Fencing off freedom with flags, They blast away happily. A wolf shouldnít break with tradition: As blind pups we sucked our motherís milk, And with our motherís milk we learned - "Donít go beyond the flags!" Itís a wolf hunt, a wolf hunt! The drivers yell at the gray beasts of prey, At old-timers and pups alike! And the dogs bay until they vomit. Blood on the snow and the red spots of flags. Weíre fast of leg and jaw. Leader, why not give us an answer - Weíre being driven by their guns - Letís break through the boundary! A wolf should not, cannot do otherwise... So this is the end of my life: The one I was destined for Smiled and raised his gun... Itís a wolf hunt, a wolf hunt! The drivers yell at the gray beasts of prey, At old-timers and pups alike! And the dogs bay until they vomit. Blood on the snow and the red spots of flags. I disobeyed, passed through the flags, - The thirst for life is stronger! Only afterwards did I hear the surprised Cries of the people behind me. Iím at my witís end, tendons taut, But today is not like yesterday! They surrounded me, surrounded me, But this time the hunters Were left holding the bag! Itís a wolf hunt, a wolf hunt! The drivers yell at the gray beasts of prey, At old-timers and pups alike! And the dogs bay until they vomit. Blood on the snow and the red spots of flags.
© H. William Tjalsma. Translation, 1982