I would like you to write your own poem after reading " Concert at the station" by the Russian poet Osip Mandelshtam. Thank you!
Concert at the station
Breathing is forbidden, heaven teems
with worms — and not a star to testify —
but God sees, there is music overhead,
the station shivers, the Aonides are singing,
once again, the violins — their air fused — merging
with explosions of the locomotives’ whistles.
An enormous park. A station’s ball of glass.
Once more the iron world twists, bound in a spell.
Toward a nebulous Elysium — to a feast of sound —
the festive carriage sweeps away,
the peacock shrieks, the grand-piano thunders —
I am late. Afraid. This is a dream.
I enter the glass forest of the station, penetrate
the violin’s arrangement in confusion, tears, in turbulence.
Shy and savage, the night chorus’s wild opening,
and the smell of roses in decaying seed-beds
where a dear, familiar shadow spent the nights
beneath the glass sky, in the wandering crowds.
And I imagine that the iron world is shivering
like a beggar in the music and the foam.
I lean against the passages of glass.
From violin bows the hot steam breathes and blinds the eyes.
Where are you going? Here, at the funeral
of a kind-hearted shadow, for us, for the last time, music rises.
BY Osip Mandelshtam TRANSLATED BY Tony Brinkley & Raina Kostova
My poem excerpt and edited for contest from my novel: Is She On To Me... Chapter Eleven