Osip Mandelstam

Poems,I love

Я пью за военные астры, за все, чем корили меня:

За барскую шубу, за астму, за желчь петербургского дня.

За музыку сосен савойских, Полей Елисейских бензин,

За розы в кабине ролс-ройса, за масло парижских картин.

Я пью за бискайские волны, за сливок альпийских кувшин,

За рыжую спесь англичанок и дальних колоний хинин,

Я пью, но еще не придумал, из двух выбираю одно:

Веселое асти- спуманти иль папских подвалов вино.

11 April 1931

I drink for the war’s asters, for all they reproached me:

For the lordly fur coat, for asthma, for the gall of Petersburg’s day.

For the Savoi pines’ music, the Champs-Élysées’ petrol,

For roses in the roll-roice cabin, and a pitcher of Alps' cream,

For the red arrogance of English ladies, and faraway colonies’ quinine,

I drink, but have not yet decided which of the two I will choose:

Merry Asti-Spumante or Papa’s cellars’ wine.

In our austere time of student life, drinking a cheap wine during the “gall of Petersburg day” and knowing that our country will always be closed for travel, and we have no chance to see the Champs-Élysées or drink the Alps’ cream, we drank with such delight for Mandestam’s “war asters, his lordly fur coat”… About his fur coat, he was so reproached for: he bought it on the flea market, all moth-eaten in the cold and hunger of the 1930s. It is remarkable to write such rich poetry in his poor conditions.

When I was in this country, in the wine store, I saw bottles of Asti Spumante, and I felt happy to drink Mandelsam's favorite wine. Unfortunately, it was too sweet, and it occurred to me that he couldn’t afford to buy Papa’s cellar wine and could only afford cheap Asti when he traveled to Italy at the age of 19.

This poem was written for Ol’ga Arbenina, an actress of the Petersburg Theater:

За то, что я руки твои не сумел удежать,

За то,что я предал соленые нежные губы,

Я должен рассвета в дремучем акрополе ждать

Как я ненавижу плакучие древние срубы.

Как мог я подумать, что ты возвратишься, как смел!

Зачем преждевременно я от тебя оторвался!

Еще не развеялся мрак и петух не пропел,

……. ……... …………

Последней звезды безболезненно гаcнет укол.

………. ………. ……….

December 1920

For I could not hold on to your hands,

For I betrayed your salty and tender lips,

I must wait for daybreak in the dense acropolis.

How I hate the weeping ancient frames.

How could I think you'd return, how could I dare?

Why have I turned off from you before the time!

The darkness yet didn’t scatter, and a cock didn’t sing.

………. …………. ………………

A jab of the last star extinguishes painlessly.