As the battle din receded
Over the hills and far away,
Tyorkin, lonely and unheeded,
In the snow abandoned lay.
Blood and snow to ice had hardened
Underneath him. Stealthily,
Death stooped over him and whispered:
“Soldier, come along with me.
“I am now your own dear true-love,
And we haven’t far to go.
I shall make the blinding blizzard
Hide your trail with shifting snow.”
Tyorkin shuddered as he froze there
On his ice-encrusted bed.
“I don’t need you here, Kosaya,
I am still alive, not dead.”
Laughing, Death came closer, saying:
“Here, young fellow, that will do.
Though you live, your hours are numbered.
I know better far than you.
“As I passed, my deathly shadow
Touched your cheek so young and fair,
And you haven’t even noticed
How the snow is settling there.
“Do not fear my shades of darkness,
Truly, night’s no worse than day…
“What d’you mean? Just what exactly
Are you after, anyway?”
Here Death almost seemed to falter.
And she even half withdrew.
“I ask little, almost nothing…
This is what I want of you:
“Just a token of agreement
That you’re weary of this world,
That you’ll pray for death to free you…”
“Sign my name then, in a word?”
Death fell thoughtful:
“You could say that –
sign for everlasting peace.”
“Go! I sell my life more dearly.”
“Don’t you bargain, young one, please.
“What’s the use? Your strength is failing.”
Death drew closer, bent down low.
“What’s the use? Your lips are freezing.
Cold your teeth…”
“The answer’s: No.”
“Just look yonder. Night is falling.
And the skyglow heralds frost.
There’s no point in freezing slowly,
While my precious time is lost…”
“I can wait.”
“You foolish fellow,
You can only come to harm.
I could wrap you up in sheepskins
And you’d be forever warm.
“Ah, you trust me! Look, you’re weeping.
Now you feel more drawn to me.”
“Lies! It’s from the cold I’m crying,
And not from your sympathy.”
“Happiness or pain – what matter?
Savage is the frost. The snow
Swirls across the open meadow.
No, they’ll never find you now…
“Even if they come to fetch you,
It will be too late. You’ll freeze.
You’ll be sorry that they didn’t
Leave you here to die in peace.”
“Death, you play a cat-and-mouse game.”
Painfully he turned away.
“Me, I want to go on living.
I’m still much too young to die.”
“Get up, then! You’ll still regret it,”
Death continued with a leer.
“Start again from the beginning –
Cold, fatigue, pain, dirt and fear…
Friend, just give a simple verdict:
Is all that worth struggling for?”
“Verdict? There’s no court of justice
Where a man can sue a war.”
“Worse – you’ll miss your home and family,
You’ll be simply worried sick.”
“First of all, I’ll get the job done:
Beat the Hun. And then go back.”
“Granted but suppose you do, then?
What’s the point in it for you?
All the land’s been stripped stark naked,
Ravaged, looted, plundered too.
Just a shambles…”
“I’m a worker.
I’d pile in and get things done.”
“No house left.”
“I’d build a new one.”
“And no stove…”
“I’d soon make one.
Jack-of-all-trades out of boredom,
Game for anything – that’s me.”
“Let a poor old women finish:
If you’ve lost an arm, maybe,
Or in some such way been crippled,
Even you will cease to care.”
For the Man, this argument with
Death was more than he could bear.
Still the blood was flowing freely,
And his limbs were growing stiff.
“Listen, Death, I might be willing,
But there’s just one single if.”
Tortured by the cruellest yearning,
Lonely, helpless, weakening,
Half beseeching, half reproaching,
Tyorkin started bargaining:
“Better and worse men than I am
May have lost their lives in war,
But, when all the fighting’s over,
Will you grant me one day more?”
On that day of celebration,
Festival of world renown,
May I hear the victory salvo
Thunder over Moscow town?
Will you let me join the living
As they throng the streets outside?
Tap a certain cottage window
In my native countryside?
When my folks step through the doorway,
Death, O Death, before I go,
May I say a word of greeting?
Half a word?”
“The answer’s No.”
Tyorkin shuddered as he froze there
On his ice-encrusted bed.
“Then be gone from me, Kosaya,
I am still alive, not dead.
“I shall weep, shall howl with torment,
Die forgotten in this field,
But of my own will and choosing,
Know that I shall never yield.”
“I’ll never find you a purer motive,
If you’ll give the sign. Fair’s fair.”
“Wait! They’re coming for me. Searching.
From the hospital.”
“Fool! Where?”
“Yonder, down that snowy footpath…”
Death laughed long, as at a joke.
“That’s the burial detail coming.”
“Never mind. They’re living folk.”
Soft snow crunching, two approaching.
Clang of crowbar hitting spade.
“Here’s another one. We’ll never
Get ’em done by nightfall, mate!”
“And the day’s been heavy going.
Mate, give us a twist of shag.
Let’s sit down here on this dead ‘un,
And we’ll have a crafty drag.”
“Would be better if we ate first –
Cabbage soup – a mess-tin full.”
“And a snifter from a hip-flask.”
“More than that – A good long pull.”
“Two long pulls.”
Albeit feebly,
Tyorkin found his voice and said:
“Just get rid of that old woman,
I am still alive, not dead.”
Both men stare. Would you believe it!
He’s alive, as they can see.
“How about that?”
“Get him back to
Hospital immediately.”
“Happens one time in a thousand!”
But they take it in their stride.
“One thing if it’s just a body –
This here’s got a soul inside.”
“Only just.”
“Say that again, chum!
You’re near frozen stiff, you know.
We’d have sent you to the People’s
Commissar for Down Below.”
“That’ll do. Don’t keep him waiting.
Chop his coat free. Careful, mind!
Lift him up.”
And then Death muttered:
“Still, I’ll follow on behind.
“Yokels, both of them; they’re used to
Duties of a different kind.
Fools!” she thought. “They’ll jolt and jar him.
In the end he’ll still be mine.”
Two stout belts and two long shovels.
And two greatcoats, end to end.
“Soldier, careful with your comrade.”
“Off we go. Hold on, my friend!”
And the two men somehow manage
Not to shake him needlessly.
With solicitude they bear him,
While Death tags along close by.
And the road’s no road, but rather
Virgin land waist-high in snow.
“Hey, it’s time you had a breather, Fellers….”
“Ah, but don’t you know,
My dear fellow,” says one bearer,
“There’s no need to worry, mate.
You’re a live ‘un that we’ve got here.
Dead, you would be twice the weight.”
Then his friend:
“That’s common knowledge.
Live ‘uns hurry,” added he.
“But a dead ‘un, he’s already
Home – whereever that may be.”
It depends on how you see it,
They decided in the end.
“Here, you’ve only got one glove on.
Take mine while it’s warm, my firend.”
As she watched them from the sidelines,
Death was forced to think, at length:
“Why, they’re thick as thieves together,
All the living, it’s their strength.
I can only strike a bargain
When they’re on their own, and so
I suppose I must postpone it.”
And Death, sighing, let them go.
(Aleksandr Tvardovskii)
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Aleksandr Tvardovskii Poems based on Topics: War & Peace, Man, Night, Death & Dying, Success, Sign & Symbol, Time, Soldiers, Listening, Fairness, SoulReaders Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Man Poems, World Poems, Night Poems, Mind Poems, Time Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Soul Poems, War & Peace Poems, Youth Poems, Fairness Poems, Friendship PoemsBased on Keywords: solicitude, shag, tags, breather, receded, weakening, postpone, cruellest, looted, crowbar, salvo