Wolf Hunt

[Xipe Totec]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJ2E4cf46nw

Are we, also, trapped by our own traditions and customs?

Russian title: Okhota na volkov

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.

[Xipe Totec]

1. Kick, for those wondering who the author is:

Vladimir Semyonovich Vysotsky (Владимир Семёнович Высоцкий) (January 25, 1938 – July 25, 1980) was a great Russian singer, song-writer, poet, and actor, whose career has had an immense and enduring effect on Russian culture. The multifaceted talent of Vladimir Vysotsky is often described by the word bard that acquired a special meaning in the Soviet Union, although he himself spoke of this term with irony. He thought of himself mainly as an actor and writer, and once remarked, "I do not belong to what people call bards or minstrels or whatever." Though his work was largely ignored by the official Soviet cultural establishments, he achieved remarkable fame during his lifetime and to this day exerts significant influence on many of Russia's popular musicians and actors who wish to emulate his iconic status.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vladimir_Vysotsky

I often wonder who really won the Cold War, when I see the emergence of Red States in the USA, and worry that, perhaps, we need somebody like Vysotsky to wake us up from our slumber.

[pnorman]

2. Thanks to you both.

I had never known of him until now. I read that Wikipedia citation with great interest, and found a link to here: http://www.museprints.com/vysotsky.html

pnorman