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Osip Mandelstam

The black wind whispers to the breath
confusing
leaves and a trembling swallow
draws a circle in the dark sky.

sweet and dying in my heart

quietly discussed the rising twilight
with lightning is extinguished.

And it gets dark on the forest moon rose
copper;
Why is there so much music and
so silent?



June 1911

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Kanata Omar Poems Osip Mandelstam

born August 13, 1971 in Kazakhstan. In 1990 he went to Leningrad, in 1996 he graduated from the State Academy of Culture in St. Petersburg. Published in journals: Air , New Youth , Vastness , Apollinary , among others. Participated in the anthologies: Reality and Dreams: New Poetry from Kazakhstan (2001), and Ulises released: modern poetry Russian outside Russia. Different publishers of Kazakhstan issued their books.

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. MILLENNIUM



drum sticks hitting the windows of the rumor convex
role of misfortune in the clouds screaming red sunset
showed how his slime throwing
rolled his eyes heaven
sticks and laughing out loud burst
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fish where they fish with open mouth
think is better than most native
deeper more
are pure fools
do not believe the speaker
simply nailed to the column and in the hospital when he left the decree

and installed radios not
although there
electricity and gas in the black lake where there are sculptures and

some public craft that smelly dirt

miraculous.
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........................... Anna Akhmatova

bees get used to the beekeeper
so abejuna race ... Only me
Akhmatova bites
story twenty-three years ago.



1934.
..
Tell me, liner deserts,
geometer of the Arabian sand,
does not the impetuosity of
lines is stronger than the wind blow?
- not for me shudder
of Jewish concerns -
He sculpts
experience the buzz and murmur of experience drinking ...

November 1933 - January 1934
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three poems by Osip Mandelstam

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Tatars, Uzbeks and nentses,
entire Ukrainian people, and even
Volga Germans await
translators.

And maybe now, some Japanese

translated into Turkish
me and reaches my soul.

November 1933
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We sat in the kitchen,
white kerosene smells sweet

A sharp knife and a bread ...
If you want, warm up thoroughly the stove,

And if not, look for the strings
tying basket before dawn

To go to the station,
Where we find we no .

January 1931
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Help me, God, to survive tonight,
fear for life, your slave ...
Living in Petersburg - it's like sleeping in a coffin.

January 1931
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