Osip Emilevich Mandelstam (1891 - 1938 / Warsaw)
I don’t remember the word I wished to say
I don’t remember the word I wished to say.
The blind swallow returns to the hall of shadow,
on shorn wings, with the translucent ones to play.
The song of night is sung without memory, though.
No birds. No blossoms on the dried flowers.
The manes of night’s horses are translucent.
An empty boat drifts on the naked river.
Lost among grasshoppers the word’s quiescent.
It swells slowly like a shrine, or a canvas sheet,
hurling itself down, mad, like Antigone,
or falls, now, a dead swallow at our feet.
with a twig of greenness, and a Stygian sympathy.
O, to bring back the diffidence of the intuitive caress,
and the full delight of recognition.
I am so fearful of the sobs of The Muses,
the mist, the bell-sounds, perdition.
Mortal creatures can love and recognise: sound may
pour out, for them, through their fingers, and overflow:
I don’t remember the word I wished to say,
and a fleshless thought returns to the house of shadow.
The translucent one speaks in another guise,
always the swallow, dear one, Antigone....
on the lips the burning of black ice,
and Stygian sounds in the memory.
Poet Other Poems
- A flame is in my blood
- A phantom scene barely glimmers
- A young Levite among priests
- As Psyche-Life goes down to the shades
- Beneath a veil of milky white
- Brothers, let us glorify freedom’s twili...
- Every church sings its own soft part
- Go back to the tainted lap, Leah
- How hard for me, the splendor of this cr...
- I am cold. Transparent Spring dresses
- I am sorry it is winter now
- I can’t sleep
- I could not among the misty clouds
- I don’t remember the word I wished to sa...
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.