How I will end, when I have sung my fill, I cannot say, nor will I even try. There is one thing, though, that I know full well: I want to live - and I will hate to die. Im on a chain, the steel chain of esteem, The links of fame are too strong for my teeth. Whos there? Whos rapping on a hasp of steel In oaken gates - a herald of more grief? No answer - but I know whos standing there. A watchdog they would simply kick aside. Above the fence, I see up in the air Familiar outlines of a sharpened scythe. Ill twist my neck out of the silver collar Or Ill bite through the gold-encrusted chain, Ill clear the fence, fall on a thorn and holler, Rip up my sides, and fly through wind and rain!
Sergei Roy. Translation, 1990