I'll whisper it - in an outline.
Its hour has not yet come.
The chessgame of measureless heaven
is mated with sweat - and wisdom.
And under purgatory's transient sky
we grow absent-minded - forget
that lucky heaven-vault on high...
is a limber, everlasting habitat.
One of Osip Mandelshtam's late little poems. Translated by me. I know I've posted this before - just wanted to remind everybody.