From: ibshambat@gmail.com   
      
   Why is the soul so lyrical   
   And so few are the names I love   
   And the ready rhythm but a miracle   
   Like Aquillon from above?   
      
   He will raise clouds of dust in a hurry   
   He will leaf through the paper stack   
   And he will not come back -- or maybe   
   As another he will come back?   
      
   Winds of Orpheus are embracing -   
   You will leave for the sea and sky -   
   And, the world not created praising,   
   I forgot the superfluous "I".   
      
   In a make-believe grove I have wandered   
   And into an azure cave delved..   
   Am I really real, I ponder,   
   And death will claim my true self?   
      
   By Osip Mandelshtam   
   Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)