Concert at Railway Station

Concert at the Train Station

Osip Mandelstam

Translated by Misha Semenov

16 April 2012

The air is suffocating, the firmament teeming with worms,

And all the stars are silent in the sky,

But, as God sees, above us music is still heard,

The station trembles with the muses’ lullaby,

Torn into pieces by the train’s whistles, once more

The atmosphere of violins melds back into a smooth alloy.

An enormous park. The glass sphere of the station.

The metal world is once again bewitched.

On to the feast of noise, to the fogs of Elysium

The wagon rushes ceremoniously:

The cries of peacocks and the rumble of the piano.

I’ve come late. I’m afraid. This is — a dream.

And so I come into the station, a huge glass forest,

The violin world’s in commotion and in tears.

The wild beginnings of the nighttime chorus

The scent of roses in rotting hothouses—

Where under the glass sky that dear, familiar shadow

Passes the night among the crowds of nomads…

And now a vision comes to me: decked with music and foam,

The metal world pitifully trembles, beggar-like.

I steady myself on the glass walls of the hall.

The scalding steam blinds the violin bows’ eyes.

Where are you going? At that dear shadow’s funeral,

For us, too, music sounds for the last time.