Osip Mandelstam

My turn shall also come: I sense the spreading of a wing.

The people need poetry that will be their own secret_x000D_ To keep them awake forever,_x000D_ And bathe them in the bright-haired wave of its breathing.

Perhaps my whisper was already born before my lips.

And I walk out of space Into an overgrown garden of values, And tear up seeming stability And self-comprehension of causes. And your, infinity, textbook I read by myself, without people - Leafless, savage medical book, A problem book of gigantic radicals.

Perhaps the whisper was born before lips, And the leaves in treelessness circled and flew, And those, to whom we impart our experience as bliss, Acquire their forms before we do