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Best Famous Osip Mandelstam Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Osip Mandelstam poems. This is a select list of the best famous Osip Mandelstam poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Osip Mandelstam poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Osip Mandelstam poems.

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by Osip Mandelstam | |

This

 self-congratulatory nonsense as the
famous gather to applaud their seeming
greatness
you
wonder where 
the real ones are
what 
giant cave
hides them
as
the deathly talentless
bow to
accolades
as
the fools are
fooled
again
you 
wonder where 
the real ones are
if there are
real ones.
this self-congratulatory nonsense has lasted decades and with some exceptions centuries.
this is so dreary is so absolutely pitiless it churns the gut to powder shackles hope it makes little things like pulling up a shade or putting on your shoes or walking out on the street more difficult near damnable as the famous gather to applaud their seeming greatness as the fools are fooled again humanity you sick motherfucker.


by Osip Mandelstam | |

This

 Today, my love,
leaves are thrashing the wind
just as pedestrians are erecting again the buildings of this drab
forbidding city,
and our lives, as I lose track of them,
are the lives of others derailing in time and
getting things done.
Impossible to make sense of any one face or mouth, though each distance is clear, and you are miles from here.
Let your pure space crowd my heart, that we might stay awhile longer amid the flying debris.
This moment, I swear it, isn't going anywhere.


by Osip Mandelstam | |

Insomnia. Homer. Taut canvas.

 Insomnia.
Homer.
Taut canvas.
Half the catalogue of ships is mine: that flight of cranes, long stretched-out line, that once rose, out of Hellas.
To an alien land, like a phalanx of cranes – Foam of the gods on the heads of kings – Where do you sail? What would the things of Troy, be to you, Achaeans, without Helen? The sea, or Homer – all moves by love’s glow.
Which should I hear? Now Homer is silent, and the Black Sea thundering its oratory, turbulent, and, surging, roars against my pillow.


by Osip Mandelstam | |

A flame is in my blood

 A flame is in my blood
burning dry life, to the bone.
I do not sing of stone, now, I sing of wood.
It is light and coarse: made of a single spar, the oak’s deep heart, and the fisherman’s oar.
Drive them deep, the piles: hammer them in tight, around wooden Paradise, where everything is light.


by Osip Mandelstam | |

This

 This is what I most want
unpursued, alone
to reach beyond the light
that I am furthest from.
And for you to shine there- no other happiness- and learn, from starlight, what its fire might suggest.
A star burns as a star, light becomes light, because our murmuring strengthens us, and warms the night.
And I want to say to you my little one, whispering, I can only lift you towards the light by means of this babbling.


by Osip Mandelstam | |

What shall I do with this body they gave me

 What shall I do with this body they gave me,
so much my own, so intimate with me?

For being alive, for the joy of calm breath,
tell me, who should I bless?

I am the flower, and the gardener as well,
and am not solitary, in earth’s cell.
My living warmth, exhaled, you can see, on the clear glass of eternity.
A pattern set down, until now, unknown.
Breath evaporates without trace, but form no one can deface.


by Osip Mandelstam | |

This night is irredeemable

 This night is irredeemable.
Where you are, it is still bright.
At the gates of Jerusalem, a black sun is alight.
The yellow sun is hurting, sleep, baby, sleep.
The Jews in the Temple’s burning buried my mother deep.
Without rabbi, without blessing, over her ashes, there, the Jews in the Temple’s burning chanted the prayer.
Over this mother, Israel’s voice was sung.
I woke in a glittering cradle, lit by a black sun.


by Osip Mandelstam | |

Brothers let us glorify freedom’s twilight

 Brothers, let us glorify freedom’s twilight –
the great, darkening year.
Into the seething waters of the night heavy forests of nets disappear.
O Sun, judge, people, your light is rising over sombre years Let us glorify the deadly weight the people’s leader lifts with tears.
Let us glorify the dark burden of fate, power’s unbearable yoke of fears.
How your ship is sinking, straight, he who has a heart, Time, hears.
We have bound swallows into battle legions - and we, we cannot see the sun: nature’s boughs are living, twittering, moving, totally: through the nets –the thick twilight - now we cannot see the sun, and Earth floats free.
Let’s try: a huge, clumsy, turn then of the creaking helm, and, see - Earth floats free.
Take heart, O men.
Slicing like a plough through the sea, Earth, to us, we know, even in Lethe’s icy fen, has been worth a dozen heavens’ eternity.


by Osip Mandelstam | |

Silentium

 She has not yet been born:
she is music and word,
and therefore the untorn,
fabric of what is stirred.
Silent the ocean breathes.
Madly day’s glitter roams.
Spray of pale lilac foams, in a bowl of grey-blue leaves.
May my lips rehearse the primordial silence, like a note of crystal clearness, sounding, pure from birth! Stay as foam Aphrodite – Art – and return, Word, where music begins: and, fused with life’s origins, be ashamed heart, of heart!


by Osip Mandelstam | |

Petropolis

 From a fearful height, a wandering light,
but does a star glitter like this, crying?
Transparent star, wandering light
your brother, Petropolis, is dying.
From a fearful height, earthly dreams are alight, and a green star is crying.
Oh star, if you are the brother of water and light, your brother, Petropolis, is dying.
A monstrous ship, from a fearful height, is rushing on, spreading its wings, flying.
Green star, in beautiful poverty, your brother, Petropolis, is dying.
Transparent spring has broken, above the black Neva’s hiss the wax of immortality is liquefying.
Oh if you are star – your city, Petropolis, your brother, Petropolis, is dying.


by Osip Mandelstam | |

Rome

 Rome is but nature's twin, which has reflected Rome.
We see its civic might, the signs of its decorum In the transparent air, the firmament's blue dome, The colonnades of groves and in the meadow's forum.


by Osip Mandelstam | |

Sisters

 Sisters - Heaviness and Tenderness- you look the same.
Wasps and bees both suck the heavy rose.
Man dies, and the hot sand cools again.
Carried off on a black stretcher, yesterday’s sun goes.
Oh, honeycombs’ heaviness, nets’ tenderness, it’s easier to lift a stone than to say your name! I have one purpose left, a golden purpose, how, from time’s weight, to free myself again.
I drink the turbid air like a dark water.
The rose was earth; time, ploughed from underneath.
Woven, the heavy, tender roses, in a slow vortex, the roses, heaviness and tenderness, in a double-wreath.