This is the last barricade, firing line, red zone.
Across it
We no longer shall stand hand in hand
Neither friend nor deputy nor drinking pal.

This is the last day, last sentence, last chance.
On the boundary the word we shall burn.
The word you won't make it through fire.
Only they will remain.

Tonight let's sit on our baggage of reason,
On the backpacks of our sense of honour
Let's count the small change of our life
Needed to reach our destination - or return.

Let's sit together till the morning.

Translated by: Margita Gailitis. Latvian literature. Latvijas Literatūras centrs