Sunday, September 18, 2011

Osip Mandelshtam (1891-1938)

‘More sluggish the snowy hive,’

More sluggish the snowy hive,
clearer the window’s crystal,
on a chair, a turquoise veil,
thrown there, carelessly, lies.

A tissue, self-intoxicated,
as if it never felt winter’s
touch, experiencing summer’s,
by its own delicacy, caressed:

and, if in icy diamonds
frost is eternally streaming,
here – it’s dragonflies flickering,
blue-eyed, living, and gone.

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