In my flight, sinews bursting, I hurtle, But as yesterday - so now today, They’ve cornered me! Driven me, encircled, Towards the huntsmen that wait for their prey! From the fir-trees the rifle-shots quicken - In the shadows the huntsmen lie low. As they fire, the wives somersault, stricken, Living targets brought down on the snow. They’re hunting wolves! The hunt is on, pursuing The wily predators, the she-wolf and her brood. The beaters shout, the dogs bay, almost spewing. The flags on the snow are red, as red as the blood. In the fight heavy odds have opposed us, But the merciless huntsmen keep ranks. With the flags on their ropes they’ve enclosed us. They take aim and they fire at point blank. For a wolf cannot break with tradition. With milk sucked from the she-wolfs dugs The blind cubs learn the stern prohibition Never, never to cross the red flags! They’re hunting wolves! The hunt is on, pursuing The wily predators, the she-wolf and her brood. The beaters shout, the dogs bay, almost spewing. The flags on the snow are red, as red as the blood. We are swift and our jaws are rapacious. Why then, chief, like a tribe that’s oppressed, Must we rush towards the weapons that face us And that precept be never transgressed? For a wolf cannot change the old story The end looms and my time’s, almost done. Now the huntsman who’s made me his quarry Gives a smile as he raises his gun. They’re hunting wolves! The hunt is on, pursuing The wily predators, the she-wolf and her brood. The beaters shout, the dogs bay, almost spewing. The flags on the snow are red, as red as the blood. But revolt and the life-force are stronger Than the fear that the red flags instil From behind come dismayed cries of anger As I cheat them, with joy, of their kill. In my flight, sinews bursting I hurtle, But the outcome is different today! I was cornered! They trapped me encircled! But the huntsmen were foiled of their prey! They’re hunting wolves! The hunt is on, pursuing The wily predators, the she-wolf and her brood. The beaters shout, the dogs bay, almost spewing. The flags on the snow are red, as red as the blood.
© Kathryn Hamilton. Translation, 1987