“whither can I escape, O strangers, flying through the hoary air” - Euripides *** It seems to me, at times, that soldiers Who did not return from the fields of blood Did not lie down to rest inside our earth But flew, and turned into white cranes. So, time and time again, from those far days They fly, they call us with their voices: Is that not why, so often and with such longing We fall silent, looking to the sky? They fly across the skies in tight formation, In deep weariness they fly into the end of day And in their formation, there is a small space – May that be a space for me. There will come a day, when with the cranes I will fly too, into the same hoary air Calling from the skies, in a birds’s voice Calling out to all I leave upon this earth. *** -my translation from R. Gamzatov in memory of my granddad. Granddad, I know you loved this song - it has comforted me many times and still does so now