With all my might, my sinews strained I try to break away, to turn loose - But as before they got me trapped, they got me covered. Iím tagged and numbered: Whatís the use? Bolts are clicking behind the fir trees, Where hunters are hiding in the shade, While on the snow the wolves are running Living targets: Ready made. The wolf hunt is on in all its fury Timber wolves, coyotes, cubs are lying dead; The hunters shout, the dogs are barking, The snow around has turned red. No chance is given to the hunted; The hunterís hand is steady with the gun. We are closed in by crimson markers, Beyond which we dare not run. For wolves must keep up the tradition With our motherís milk, we have come to know That we must never overstep the marker, That there are limits beyond which one dares not go. The wolf hunt is on in all its fury Timber wolves, coyotes, cubs are lying dead; The hunters shout, the dogs are barking, The snow around has turned red. Our jaws and legs are strong and speedy Now, leader can you tell us why We must head for our destruction Without giving those barriers a try? Wolves do not - should not jump the barriers I just about finished my run; And the hunter who had my number Smiled as he raised his gun. The wolf hunt is on in all its fury Timber wolves, coyotes, cubs are lying dead; The hunters shout, the dogs are barking, The snow around has turned red. It is then I decided to break with tradition To survive, I had to run fast Ignoring the markers around me Leaving the people aghast. With all my might, my sinews strained Iíve made the break and unlike before The hunters with their guns, dogs and markers Will not get me anymore. The wolf hunt is on in all its fury Timber wolves, coyotes, cubs are lying dead; The hunters shout, the dogs are barking, The snow around has turned red.
© Misha Allen. Translation, 1980