Mikhail Svetlov
In Hospital

What on earth is there to hope for or expect?
Every day they see me off and meet me.
They're surrounding me with honour and respect
Like a fish with onions, nice and neatly.

Are we really doomed to silent gloom,
Like an office left and closed at five?
Will men no longer hear my heart-beats boom,
Signalling that I am still alive?

Damn it, no! There's still some dawns ahead.
Though it looks my gumption's cooling off,
Yet that little boxer in my chest
Doubtless, still sounds militant enough!

What is all this junk about farewell?
What mention can there be of alleluia
When with reddest wine my vessels swell?
Talk of death when life goes surging through you!

All my fire lives on in me unstifled
And the times command I have my say —
Soldiers march along with shouldered rifles,
Mothers bring their children out to play.

Let old warden Night be keeping vigil
Over me, this hospital, this gloom...
Come on, morning, quick — I'll make a gunhole
Of the window in my lonely room!

Translated by Dorian Rottenberg