The last songs are gathering

by Maria Stepanova
     translated by Jamie Olson

The last songs are gathering,
warriors on an invisible front:
they are leaving the area,
escaping a few lines at a time
to meet at the rendezvous point,
where they glance around warily.

They’ve become so dried out,
you can’t soften them with water!
They’ve become so wild,
they no longer speak Russian.
But with their old and nimble hands,
they pass around bullets.
In the dark, with their knowing fingers,
they sort through AK-47s.
They sigh and tug gently at letters
lodged in a wound.  Towards morning,
steering clear of the guard post,
they move out into the sleepless city.

And keep silent while the cannons thunder.
And keep silent while the muses thunder.