Trije gedichten fan Osip Mandelstam

* 

It's so my own and so familiar. What should 
I do with this God-given flesh and blood? 

For joys so quiet as to live and breathe, 
Who will receive my gratitude for these? 

I'm both the gardener and flower one, 
In this world's dungeons I am not alone. 

On the glass of the eternal one can see 
The traces of my breath and of the warmth of me. 

Henceforth it bears a pattern which is mine 
Even to me unknown from recent times. 

Let it be drained, the turmoil of the day - 
The lovely pattern won't be crossed away. 


* 

A snow hive cleaner than the air, 
Crystal more see-through than the glass 
A turquoise veil adorned with brass 
Carelessly tossed upon a chair. 

A cloth made drunk of her own glow 
Caressed by tenderness of light 
Experienced the summer bright 
As though it were the winter snow. 

And if through diamonds made of ice 
Frosts of eternities were streaming 
Here is the flutter of the dreaming 
Fast-living blue-eyed dragonflies. 


* 

Blackened wind weaves patterns hollow 
Under barely breathing leaves 
And a trembling little swallow 
In dark skies a circle weaves. 

Quietly argue in the heart 
Dear, dying, mine despite, 
An impending dusk apart 
Of an ebbing ray of light. 

And above the woods of dusk 
Has arisen copper moon; 
Why so little song, I ask, 
And such silence in the lone?



[Oers. Ilya Shambat]