David Samoylov
At the Front Line

I fell asleep well after three;
The birds were waking in the tree,
The wood stood dark and deep.
And I was happy, young and free
And smiling in my sleep.

The dew had fallen on the grass
My sleep was tight and sound
All over me — just shooting stars
And under me — the ground.

With sleep like this the young are blessed;
My bag under my head,
I slept like only soldiers rest:
There's duty, but no debt.

And there is nothing that I own
Except this bag of mine.
And I depend on me alone
When close to the front line.

There's open sky with stars above
My head, and while alone,
I dreamed of someone whom I loved,
But who - I did not know.

And in that dream I letters sent,
And told that very soon
From hospital I would be let
Go back to my platoon.

And there, my sergeant, still alive,
With his approving nod,
Would honor me as I arrive,
And send me to my squad.

Translated by Olga Dumer