'To this the pagan senate bears witness: <br />-- THESE DEEDS SHALL NEVER DIE! -- ' <br />He lit his pipe and wrapped his cloak around <br />While some play chess nearby. <br /> <br />He traded his ambitious dream <br />For a godforsaken Siberian plot <br />And an elegant pipe at his venomous lips, <br />Which uttered truth in a mournful world. <br /> <br />When the German oaks first rustled, <br />Europe wept in her snare. <br />Black horses in quadrigae reared <br />on each triumphant turn. <br /> <br />Once, the blue punch glowed in our glasses. <br />With the broad noises of the samovar, <br />A friend from across the Rhine spoke <br />In muted tones -- a freedom-loving guitar. <br /> <br />The lively voices are still excited <br />Over the sweet liberty of citizenship; <br />But the victims don't want blind skies, <br />Toil and consistency are truer. <br /> <br />Everything's confused and there is no one to say, <br />As things grow colder, <br />Everything's confused, it is sweet to repeat: <br />Russia, Lethe, Lorelei...<br /><br />Osip Emilevich Mandelstam<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-decembrist/
