To
read only children's books, treasure
Only
childish thoughts, throw
Grown-up
things away
And
rise from deep sorrows.
I'm
tired to death of life,
I
accept nothing it can give me,
But
I love my poor earth
Because
it's the only one I've seen.
In
a far-off garden I swung
On
a simple wooden swing,
And
I remember dark tall firs
In
a hazy fever.
Osip
Mandelshtam, 1908
Translated
by James Greene
