To the Taiga
On the wreck of a sledge,
In sable or in cocked hat -
Are the rich as well as the respectable and pathetic -
They run
Into the unexplored thicket, -
Somebody more seldom, somebody more often, -
Into wolves’ caves, in bear lairs,

There stands,
Like a tired boxer,
A centureold grenadier
With a twofold, with a threefold girth and more.
And I
Eat air, chew, swallow, -
Yes I am usually only here
Behind bars of woods - but in freedom!