A POEM BY OSIP MANDELSTAM- 1922

Cold prickles my scalp.
It's forbidden to speak out.
Time cuts me off
As your heel grinds me down.

Life turns against life.
Sound slowly breaks up.
Things drop out of sight
Past remembering in no time.

Oh yes, it once was better.
Please, you can’t compare:
Oh my blood, what stirred you then;
O blood, what stirs you now.

Plainly there’s some design
Now playing on these lips:
Winds are playing in the tree tops
Doomed to be chopped down.

*
tr. Deborah Marshall&Douglas Penick