Osip Mandelstam


Two translations by Clarence Brown and W.S. Merwin


What shall I do with myself, now it's January?
The gaping city staggers and clings.
I think it's the locked doors that have made me drunk.
I could howl out of every lock and paper-clip.

The stocking-lanes barking,
knitted streets of junk-rooms, idiots ducking into corners
to jump out of them-
In the pit, in the warty darkness,
I'm slipping toward the frozen pump-house.
I fall over my feet. I swallow dead air.
A fever of crows explodes.

And after that, there I am, gasping,
drumming on an icy wooden tub:
'Somebody read me! Somebody lead me! Somebody heal me!
Somebody say something on the jagged stairs !'

Voronezh. January-February I937


Where can I put myself this January?
The city, exposed, is extravagantly stubborn . . .
Am I drunk on doors that lock me out?
The catches and fastenings make me want to roar.

And yapping alleys stretched like stockings,
Streets tangled as an attic,
And cornered creatures crawling into corners
And scuttling out on the sly.

And I slither into a pit, into the calloused dark,
Towards the iced-up pump-house,
And, stumbling, munch dead air,
And the feverish rooks rise up.

And I gasp after them, hammering
On some frozen wood-pile:
Just a reader, someone to speak with, a doctor!
A conversation on the twisted stairs!

February 1937