Osip Mandelstam

 

I was washing in the yard at night
The stars in the sky were coarsely brilliant
Not a ray, but salt thrown on an axe —
The barrel cool and full to overflowing

All the gates are shut and fastened tight
And the earth is threaded-through with conscience
What more pure foundation can there be
Than the truth of fresh and untouched canvas?

In the barrel, a star melts like salt,
And the water, cooling, becomes blacker —
Bitter fate more bitter, death more pure,
And more frightening the earth — and truer.