From the chill, what can I do, -
As the time now cuts me down
Like the heel right off your shoe.
Life is overwhelming life,
Sound is melting, bit by bit,
Something’s off, I feel deprived,
With no time to harp on it.
Life was better, was it not?
No comparing, anyway,
How you rustled once, my blood, -
How you’re rustling today.
It appears, that one must pay
For the movement of the lips,
And the tree-tops freely sway
As the axe awaits, eclipsed.
OSIP MANDELSTAM
Translation by Andrey Kneller
No comments:
Post a Comment