Ilya Ehrenburg
In Barcelona

Beside the bird shops on Las Ramblas
A soldier, deafened in the fray,
From thrushes, robins and the warblers
Delighted gaze he couldn’t stay.
And in his ears was roar cemented —
Nocturnal voice of grim grenades.
The constant trills made him demented,
While fledgling joyed in serenades.
The soldier saw the finch’s tweeting
And sonorous fields he then recalled —
He stretched his hand in thoughtful greeting
And quiver on his lips was palled.
What won’t he sell, the market trader?
From what ennui does he torment?
Forgetting songbird, brave crusader
Found hearted hope was all but spent.
So don’t betray your nation’s glory,
And don’t forget how bloom appears,
And don’t give up for chirping story
The blessedness of heedless ears.

Translated by Rupert Moreton