I have nothing in common with those
Who are afraid of burns
This is the last barricade, firebreak, red line.
We will no longer shake hands
As friends, politicians, or drinking buddies.
The final day, the last sentence, the last chance.
At the border the word we will go up in flames.
The word you won't make it through the fire.
Only they will remain.
Tonight let's sit awhile on our suitcases filled with reason,
Our backpacks bulging with feelings of honor,
And count a lifetime's worth of pocket change
For the road ahead, or back.
Let us sit until the morning.
translated from the Latvian by Bitite Vinklers
Seed in Snow