Boris Slutsky
Horses in the ocean

To I. Ehrenburg

Horses know how to swim,
But not well, not far.

There was a ship called The Gloria —
It’s easy to recall that name.

The ship sailed, exulting in its name.
The ocean tried to gain the upper hand,

In the hold, tossing their fine heads,
A thousand horses hammered night and day.

A thousand horses! Four thousand horseshoes!
And not a piece of luck between them.

A mine blew a hole in the bottom of the vessel
A long, long way from land.

The people crawled and scrambled into lifeboats.
But the horses just had to swim.

What other course was there, what could be done,
If there was no room on boat or raft?

An island of bay horses floated on the ocean,
A chestnut island in the dark blue sea.

And at first they found it easy going,
They thought the ocean was a stream.

Bur this was a stream without edge or limit.
At the end of their strength, suddenly

The horses began to neigh, accusing
Those who would drown them in the sea.

The horses went down — their neighing did not cease
Until they had all been drowned.

That's the story. And yet I pity them —
Chestnut creatures that never saw the land.

Translated by Daniel Weissbort