Nikolay Tikhonov
Ballad of the nails

Unhurriedly he finished smoking his pipe,
Unhurriedly the smile from his face he wiped.

“Company, attention! Officers, in front!”
With short sharp steps the commander comes.

Words dress ranks smartly, their stature increased:
“We sail at eight hundred hours. Heading — East.

“Those with a wife, child, brother — take a pen,
Write now! We’re not coming back again.

“But the foe we’ll send flying, we’ll tan his hide!”
“Aye, aye, cap’n!” the second-in-command replied.

As for the youngest, a bold lad and brave,
He gazed at the sun and the glittering waves.

“Does where matter? Why not at sea?” he said.
“There’s no place quieter to lay your head.”

For the Admiral’s ears a dawn message arrived;
“Mission fulfilled. Not a soul survived.”

Could nails from such people be fashioned, you’d see
That no tougher nails in the world would there be.

Translated by Peter Tempest