Evgeni Vinokurov
Eyes
Exploded. To the ground. On his back. Arms apart. He
Raised himself to his knees, and bit his lips.
Across his face were smeared not tears
But eyes shot out.
Awful, awful. Bent double, I heaved
Him to one side. He was all
Covered with clay. I could hardly
Drag him across to the village.
In the field-hospital he cried
To the nurse: oh it hurts: When you change
The bandage it’s hell: And I gave, as one does,
The man something to smoke as he lay dying.
And when (taking him away), the wheels began
To whimper sharply, over all the voices
I suddenly remembered, for the first time:
My friend had pale blue eyes.
1944-57
Translated by Anthony Rudolph
Page(s) 49
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