We live, not feeling the earth beneath us
At ten paces our words evaporate.
But when there’s the will to crack open our mouths
our words orbit the Kremlin mountain man.
Murderer, peasant killer.
His fingers plump as grubs.
His words drop like lead weights.
His laughing cockroach whiskers.
The gleam of his boot rims.
by Osip Mandelshtam
This is a poem written by a Russian poet Osip Mandelshtam (1891-1938) about Stalin (translated by Darran Anderson).
Мы живем, под собою не чуя страны,
Наши речи за десять шагов не слышны,
А где хватит на полразговорца,
Там припомнят кремлёвского горца.
Его толстые пальцы, как черви, жирны,
А слова, как пудовые гири, верны,
Тараканьи смеются усища,
И сияют его голенища. Осип Мандельштам
Это стихотворение
- Date:
- 03.04.2022
- Locations:
- Saint Petersburg
- Category:
- Authority-based message
- Settings:
- Shelf, store
- Stylistic means:
- Installation
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