Osip Mandelshtam

Roubaste-me os mares, da corrida, do voo.

Mas me deu o fulcro da sua terra violenta.

Então, o que é que conseguiu? Doce ironia do destino:

Também tentou tirar a língua, mas falhou.

(1935 de maio de 1935, a partir do caderno de voronezh, escrito no exílio. )

Traduzido do russo por Philip Nikolayev

Osip Mandelshtam

Of no use to you, night, I’m lost

In you: a shell without a pearl

Cast from the ocean of the world

And washed up on your starry coast.

With an indifference in the waves,

You coldly heave your singing sighs,

Yet you will grow to love the lies

Told by a seashell of no use.

Lying down with it on the sand,

You’ll clothe it with your airy veil

And tie it with a lasting bond

To the great bell of ocean swell.

You’ll fill the brittle seashell’s walls –

A ghost heart, an abandoned home –

With spray and fog, with rainy squalls

And softer whispers of your foam.

1911

Translated by Philip Nikolayev

Osip Mandelshtam

The body’s gift: what shall I do with it,

So integral, so mine, until I’m through with it?

For the twin joys of breathing and of living

To whom ought I to offer my thanksgiving?

I am the gardener and I too the flower,

I’m not alone in the world’s prison tower.

Eternity’s glass pane, touched with my breath,

Reveals an imprint of my body’s warmth.

The gentlest pattern will arise on it,

And lo – there’s now no recognizing it.

While murky moments melt and dribble,

the sweet pattern remains, indelible.

1909

Translated by Philip Nikolayev

Hagia Sophia

Osip Mandelshtam

Hagia Sophia: here, God himself decreed

Nations and kings to stop! As witness eyes

In words, your ancient cupola is indeed,

As if on a chain, suspended from the skies.

Across the centuries, Justinian’s example

Shines: Diana of Ephesus abets

The theft of 107 columns in green marble

For the benefit of those alien gods.

In lofty thought, your magnanimous architect,

Noble of spirit, arranged the nave, exedrae,

Semi-domes, apses, pillars, et cetera,

Once he had indicated east and west.

The lovely temple is bathing in the world,

Its forty windows hold a triumph of light.

Under the dome, with sails of wings bedight,

The four archangels are the most beautiful.

This wise and spherical construction

Will outlive many a loud age and nation.

Echoes of choirs of cherubim weeping

Will fail to warp the darkened gilding.

Translated by Philip Nikolayev