English / Sample translations /

/Translated by Andrew Oakland/

This feeling of satiation made the surrounding forest seem cosier; for a short while, the wolves could forget the fact of their homelessness. She-Wolf lay on her back and several times turned in pleasure from side to side. Wolf bent down to her, carelessly touching her muzzle. He licked her. She pretended not to notice, but a spark in her slit eyes told him: Just you try! The suitor made a grimace. In raising his chops he bared his fangs. He snarled, seized her by the whiskers; she flinched. Still on her back, she, too, gave a snarl, though its tone was closer to a dove's coo than a dark threat. But Wolf knew that behind her apparent helplessness were braced muscles: he held his victim tight. Her strategem was time-tested: I'm a poor thing, she squealed. He let her go. He knew how things went; their sons and daughters knew it, too. They were waiting for that moment, because there are types of incident whose appeal never wanes; if anything is certain about the co-existence of wolves, it is the presence of passion.
All of a sudden She-Wolf got to her feet. She was beautiful. Wolf, too, struck his most impressive pose, his head held high and his mane tousled. She tossed her head and barked thinly; he raised his tail high and moved it from side to side a few times; both looked into the face of the other but also off into the distance. They were playing hide-and-seek of the most intimate kind. The cubs were watching them. As their patience dwindled, they trembled more and more.