V.Voskresensky, The Wolf's Choice - Translation (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

By Viktor Voskresensky

You live and without the fate in your mind...
A wolf doesn't have a simple being:
Last day he was able to press others, but
Today he is exiled from pack, and severely.

The blind puppies there behind the leader's back
Were sharpening fangs on the quiet:
And, getting together, they had torn up then
The sides of the old wolf, rather.

I'm suffering from such a tedious thought,
Abased and malicious, tired.
And howling at moon is not now a joy.
Are you glad to eat me, the jacals?

I know, that span of the wolf's life is short
That's not so long time for running.
The two enemies wait me now in front:
The old age and the bullet of hunter.

And will I die from the ripe age in the view
Of mockering puppies, so spiteful? !
From this thought the fear grows up, to be true,
I'd like to have other end, rather.

I have searched for a bullet for months, and at last,
I see the spitfire in front of me.
The hunsman is welcoming me, grinning fast,
The wolf, who is tired of concealing.

And only the gun sight between us - the cross,
Which shares, divides our gazes.
My enemy that time had changed in his face,
As getting the beast's mask in waiting.

I'm not in a state to play a hide-and-seek with fate,
Untill years bent me to real land,
And fearlessly I rush forward in attack
With my breast, defeated from first step.

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In russian:

http: //www.stihi.ru/2012/03/01/134
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In bulgarian, ukranian:

http: //www.stihi.ru/2012/03/06/5056