By Osip Mandelstam
In this vague and poignant haze your image
Hardly I can touch with all my hand.
'Oh, my God! ' - I said, mistaken, really
I thought that time in the other way.
The sacred name has flied out like a free bird
From my breast, which opened its door.
What's in future? Just the same clouds,
And the empty cage behind once more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem