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Old Man

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Subject: Old Man
From: ibsham...@gmail.com (Ilya Shambat)
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by: Ilya Shambat - Sun, 30 Oct 2022 00:07 UTC

It's dawn, sirens are wailing,
Seven a.m.
You that appear like Verlen,
Wake up old man!

Eyes childish, angling,
Green fire makes ash;
Upon the neck is hanging
A colored sash.

He curses, mutters, mumbles
Words lost within;
He wants to make confession
But first to sin.

A disappointed worker
A bitter one
The eye, beat up in melee,
Shines like the sun.

Thus having followed Sabbath,
He drags his feet:
Happy privation stares
From every street.

At home, flying with curse words
And white with rage,
A harsh wife meets and screams at
The drunken sage.

By Osip Mandelshtam
Translated by Ilya Shambat
https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

The reward of a thing well done is to have done it. -- Emerson

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