From: ibshambat@gmail.com   
      
   Perhaps you not need me not this minute,   
   Night; from sea foams of the world -   
   A shell without a pearl within it -   
   Upon your shores I have been hurled.   
      
   With mists the ocean you embellish   
   And, stuttering, you sing as well;   
   But you will love, and you will cherish   
   The pretense of a useless shell.   
      
   On ocean sands you lie next to her   
   You dress her in a misty haze   
   And with tight roping you tie to her   
   A bell, gigantic, made of bronze,   
      
   And then the seashell, fragile, empty -   
   A lonely heart that beats in vain -   
   You fill with sea foam's whispers plenty,   
   With fog with wind and with light rain.   
      
   By Osip Mandelshtam   
   Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat   
   https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)