Osip Mandelstam - Silentium: Poetry of Osip Mandelstam

Translated by Andrey Kneller Copyright 2014 by Andrey Kneller ***
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1908 *** The careful muffled sound of fruit
That plummets, broken from a tree,
Amid the constant melody
Of the deep silence of the wood
1908 ***
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1908 *** The Christmas trees of tinsel gold
Out of the depths of forests blaze;
Behind the bushes, toy wolves gaze
With eyes so frightening and cold.
My grief prophetic, pertinent,
My freedom - quieted and distant,
And ever-laughing, mocking crystal -
A numb and lifeless firmament.
1908 *** , , - , ... 1908 *** Out of the half-lit great hall, fervent, You slipped out in a wispy shawl - We didnt stir a single soul, We didnt wake the sleeping servants 1908 *** ,
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1908 *** Only childrens books to read,
Only childrens thoughts to cherish,
All mature things to disparage,
Make the deepest grief recede.
Lifes become a deathly bother,
There is nothing to amend,
But I love my meager land,
For Ive not seen any other.
On a wooden swing, immersed,
Long ago, Id swing in bliss,
Frenzied now, I reminisce
Of those towering dark firs.
1908 ***
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1909 *** Such an unutterable woe
Her two enormous eyes had opened,
The flower vase arose, awoken,
And spilled its crystal to the floor.
The room is sated now completely
With languor sweetest remedy!
Such tiny kingdom presently
Devoured so much sleep, so swiftly.
A little sip of deep red wine,
A little sun in May, awaking,
And, brittle biscuits gently breaking,
The slimmest fingers faintest white.
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1909, *** No need to speak at any rate,
One ought to never educate,
Its sad, and beautiful in part, -
The wild animals dark heart:
It feels no urge to educate,
It cannot speak at any rate,
It dives, a dolphin, young and bold,
Into the gray depths of the world.
December 1909, Heidelberg
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1909 *** I was given a body what to do with it now,
One so unique and my own somehow?
For this quiet joy, to breathe and to be,
Whom should I thank, somebody tell me?
Im the gardener, Im the flower as well,
Im not alone in worlds dungeon cell.
On the glass of eternity, Ive already left
A mark of my warmth, a mark of my breath.
And on its surface, a pattern is made
Unrecognizable still of late.
Let the cloudiness of the moments cascade
The lovely pattern will never fade.
1909 Silentium ,
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1910 Silentium She wasnt born just quite yet,
Shes both, the music and the word,
Which links the living of the world,
Unbreakable and permanent.
The sea is breathing calmly, nestled,
But wildly shines the light of day.
The lilac of the foaming spray
Is in its turbid-azure vessel.
O, may my lips someday attain
The primal muteness that Ive sought -
Thats like a flawless crystal note,
Its purity - from birth sustained.
Remain as foam, O, Aphrodite,
And let no word from music part,
Let heart become ashamed of heart,
With origins of life fused tightly!
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1911 Shell Night, maybe you dont need me,
From the worlds deep swells,
The frenzied sea had heaved me
To you, a pearl-less shell.
Indifferently, without regard,
You froth the seas and sing,
But you will learn, with all your heart,
To love this needless thing.
Together, on the sand, youll lie,
Your chasuble around it,
Forever, with it, you will tie
The surges bell resounding,
And like unoccupied hearts home,
Youll fill the fragile shell,
With wind, with whispers of the foam,
And fog, and rain as well
1911 ***
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1910 *** With the evil swamp beneath me,
Reed-like, rustling, I thrived -
Keenly, languidly, and sweetly,
I breathed in forbidden life.
As I droop, ignored completely,
Deep into my cold asylum,
Short autumnal minutes greet me
With a rustle, almost silent.
Im content, insulted deeply,
Life is dream-like on the whole,
And I envy men discreetly,
And discreetly love them all.
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1910 *** Dusk descended, stifling, hellish,
It takes effort to inhale
Maybe, most of all, I cherish
My thin cross and secret trail.
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1911 *** Today is a dreadful day:
Grasshoppers dont intone,
The shadowy cliffs gray
Is grimmer than gravestones.
A ringing as arrows stream,
Oracular crows cries
Im seeing a dreadful dream,
Moment by moment flies.
Make phenomena disperse,
Demolish the earths cage,
Let furious hymns burst
The brass of the secrets rage.
The pendulum of souls rocks
Oblivious, straight, coarse
And frightfully fate knocks
Into our locked doors
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1911 *** The horses are sauntering, slow,
The lanterns give off little light!
These strange men surely must know
Where I will be taken tonight.
Im starting to trust their concern,
Cold, sleepy and totally spent;
Im jolted and thrown on a turn
To the beam of the star overhead.
My foreheads feverish lurching,
And cold hands comforting me,
And outlines of shadowy fir-trees,
The ones that Ive yet to see.
1911 ***
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1911 *** In the soggy woods, a ray
Sows a cool and meager glow.
Sorrow, like a bird of gray,
Is in my heart, I'm walking slow.
Wounded bird, whats in my power?
The deathly silent sky repels.
From the clouded bell-tower,
Someones taken down the bells.
And there it rises up - the height -
Orphaned, mute and in a daze,
Like an empty tower of white,
Occupied by silence, haze...
Morning, gentle - far and wide,
Dreaminess and its persistence -
Drowsiness unsatisfied
Foggy thoughts chime in the distance
1911 ***
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1912 *** I loathe the light of the cold
Monotonous stars at night.
Welcome, delirium of old, -
The sagittate towers height!
Turn into lace, stone slab,
And into a web be pressed.
With your pointed needle, stab
The firmaments empty breast.
My turn will come all the same
Im sensing my wings grow taut.
So be it but where is it aimed, -
The arrow of living thought?
Else, out of time, Ill repair
Home, depleted and rough:
I couldnt feel love there,
Here Im afraid to love
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1913 *** From easy life, were in a mindless daze:
Wine in the day, hung-over in the night.
How to retain this pointless delight,
O gentle plague, the red flush of your face?
In every handshake, a tormenting rite
And in the evening kisses on the town,
When rivers become heavy and slow down,
And lanterns blaze, like torches, in the night.
We wait for death, a wolf in a disguise,
Of all of us, hell perish first, I fret,
The one, whose lips are always worried-red
Whose bangs hang down, covering his eyes.
November 1913 *** ,
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1914 *** Orioles in the woods, and the length of vowels
Is the only measure of tonic verse, moreover,
Only once each year does nature pour out
The full-drawn length, like in the metrics of Homer.