296.

Your narrow shoulders were meant to redden under
whips, redden under whips, burn in frost.

Your child-hands were meant to lift hot irons,
to lift hot irons and weave ropes.

Your tender feet were meant to walk bare over
glass, walk bare over glass and bloody sand.

Well, and I was meant to burn for you like a
black candle, burn like a black candle and never dare pray.

--Osip Mandelshtam (tr Raffel & Burago)


Better: The Sea-Shell.