Why do elks and rabbits cavort through the forest?
Drawing away?
The people ate the bark of the asp,
The green sprouts of firs …
Wives and children wander through the woods,
Collecting birch leaves
For their schi, okroschka and borsch,
Fir tops and silvery moss,—
The sustenance of the forest.
The children are its scouts,
Wandering through the woods,
Roasting white worms in the fire,
Sorrel, fat caterpillars
Or large spiders—they are sweeter than nuts.
They catch moles, grey lizards,
Shoot hissing serpents with a bow and arrow,
Make crisp bread from saltbush,
They run after butterflies:
They have got a whole sack.
There will be butterfly borsch today—
Mom will cook.
But the rabbit, tenderly cavorting through the forest,
The children behold as in a dream,
As a vision of a bright world,
Enthralled, with large eyes,
Saintly from the hunger,
Disbelieving the truth,
It runs away a nimble apparition,
Going black with the tip of its ear.
An arrow flies after it,
But too late—a filling meal has gotten away,
And the children stand spellbound …
“A butterfly, look, over there …
Quick, after it! And there’s a blue one!…”
It’s gloomy in the woods. A wolf came from afar
To the spot where last year
He had devoured a lamb.
For a long while he whirled as a spinning top,
Sniffing the entire place out,
But nothing was left—
The ants’ doing—except for a withered hoof.
Unsettled, he drew in his lumpy ribs
And skulked from the thicket.
With a heavy paw, he shall crush the red-brow
Woodcocks that fell asleep under the snow,
Himself bespattered with the cold white …
The little fox with the fiery down,
Clumped itself on a tree stump,
Ruminating about the future …
Should I become a dog?
Enter the service of people?
There are many stretched nets—
Just lie in one of them …
No, that’s a risky business.
They shall devour the gingery fox,
The same way they devoured the dogs!
No dogs bark in the village …
And the fox washed itself with its downy paws,
Raising the fiery sail of its tail,
The squirrel said, fussily:
“Where are my nuts and my acorns?—
The people ate them!”
The translucent quiet of evening descended.
With a faint lisp, the pine kissed
The asp,
Perhaps they shall be cut down
Tomorrow for breakfast.