Osip Mandelstam - Russian Poetry

I hate the light
Of the monotonous stars.
Salutations to you, my ancient delirium -
Altitude of an arrowed tower!

Be lace, stone,
Become a cobweb:
Lacerate the void
With a fine needle.

My turn shall also come:
I sense the spreading of a wing.
Yes - but where will the shaft
Of living thought fly?

My time and journey over,
Perhaps I shall return:
I couldn't love there;
Here - I'm afraid to...


1912


trns. by James Greene




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