• Tristia

    From ibshambat@gmail.com@1:229/2 to All on Saturday, May 09, 2020 19:43:05
    In science of parting I received instruction
    From hatless laments of the sleepless night
    As oxen chewed, and grew the expectation,
    And end of city vigil was in sight -
    And I recall the rooster night that year
    When lost in doleful journey for too long
    Into the void the tear-drenched eyes did peer
    And woman's cry mingled with muse's song.

    Who yet again can say farewell, unknowing
    What longing and what sorrow waits for us,
    What good is it to judge the rooster's crowing
    When fire is burning in Acropolis;
    And on the somewhere dawn of some new lifetime,
    While oxen lazily chew roughage at the stall,
    Why does the rooster, herald of new lifetime,
    Flap his flamboyant wings on city wall?

    And yet I love the way fate weaves her gown:
    The shuttle runs, the spindle turns apace,
    And straight ahead, look now, for like swan's down
    The barefoot Delia is flying in your face!
    Structure of life is shoddily created
    When tongue is starved so utterly for light!
    All was before, and all will be repeated,
    And only recognition brings respite.

    Thus it will be: A figurine, transparent,
    Stands on an earthen dish that's clean and wide,
    And like a snow-white winter squirrel pelt
    A girl leans over wax and looks inside.
    Ours not is to divine the Greek Erebus:
    Wax is to her what bronze is to her mate.
    Our dice falls only in the field of battle;
    But women die as they're predicting fate.

    By Osip Mandelshtam
    Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
    https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From ibshambat@gmail.com@1:229/2 to All on Wednesday, August 05, 2020 17:27:18
    In science of parting I received instruction
    From hatless laments of the sleepless night
    As oxen chewed, and lingered expectation,
    And end of city vigil was in sight -
    And I recall the rooster night that year
    When lost in doleful journey for too long
    Into the void the tear-drenched eyes did peer
    And woman's cry mingled with muse's song.

    Who yet again can say farewell, unknowing
    What longing and what sorrow waits for us,
    What good is it to judge the rooster's crowing
    When fire is burning in Acropolis;
    And on the somewhere dawn of some new lifetime,
    While oxen lazily chew roughage at the stall,
    Why does the rooster, herald of new lifetime,
    Flap his flamboyant wings on city wall?

    And yet I love the way fate weaves her gown:
    The shuttle runs, the spindle turns apace,
    And straight ahead, look now, for like swan's down
    The barefoot Delia is flying in your face!
    Structure of life is shoddily created
    When tongue is starved so utterly for light!
    All was before, and all will be repeated,
    And only recognition brings respite.

    Thus it will be: A figurine, transparent,
    Stands on an earthen dish that's clean and wide,
    And like a snow-white winter squirrel pelt
    A girl leans over wax and looks inside.
    Ours not is to divine the Greek Erebus:
    Wax is to her what bronze is to her mate.
    Our dice falls only in the field of battle;
    But women die as they're predicting fate.

    https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From Ilya Shambat@1:229/2 to All on Monday, April 12, 2021 15:51:19
    From: ibshambat@gmail.com

    In science of parting I received instruction
    From hatless laments of the sleepless night
    As oxen chewed, and lingered expectation,
    And end of city vigil was in sight -
    And I recall the rooster night that year
    When lost in doleful journey for too long
    Into the void the tear-drenched eyes did peer
    And woman's cry mingled with muse's song.

    Who yet again can say farewell, unknowing
    What longing and what sorrow waits for us,
    What good is it to judge the rooster's crowing
    When fire is burning in Acropolis;
    And on the somewhere dawn of some new lifetime,
    While oxen lazily chew roughage at the stall,
    Why does the rooster, herald of new lifetime,
    Flap his flamboyant wings on city wall?

    And yet I love the way fate weaves her gown:
    The shuttle runs, the spindle turns apace,
    And straight ahead, look now, for like swan's down
    The barefoot Delia is flying in your face!
    Structure of life is shoddily created
    When tongue is starved so utterly for light!
    All was before, and all will be repeated,
    And only recognition brings respite.

    Thus it will be: A figurine, transparent,
    Stands on an earthen dish that's clean and wide,
    And like a snow-white winter squirrel pelt
    A girl leans over wax and looks inside.
    Ours not is to divine the Greek Erebus:
    Wax is to her what bronze is to her mate.
    Our dice falls only in the field of battle;
    But women die as they're predicting fate.

    By Osip Mandelshtam
    Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
    https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From Ilya Shambat@1:229/2 to All on Wednesday, May 26, 2021 15:11:46
    From: ibshambat@gmail.com

    In science of parting I received instruction
    From hatless laments of the sleepless night
    As oxen chewed, and grew the expectation,
    And end of city vigil was in sight -
    And I recall the rooster night that year
    When lost in doleful journey for too long
    Into the void the tear-drenched eyes did peer
    And woman's cry mingled with muse's song.

    Who yet again can say farewell, unknowing
    What longing and what sorrow waits for us,
    What good is it to judge the rooster's crowing
    When fire is burning in Acropolis;
    And on the somewhere dawn of some new lifetime,
    While oxen lazily chew roughage at the stall,
    Why does the rooster, herald of new lifetime,
    Flap his flamboyant wings on city wall?

    And yet I love the way fate weaves her gown:
    The shuttle runs, the spindle turns apace,
    And straight ahead, look now, for like swan's down
    The barefoot Delia is flying in your face!
    Structure of life is shoddily created
    When tongue is starved so utterly for light!
    All was before, and all will be repeated,
    And only recognition brings respite.

    Thus it will be: A figurine, transparent,
    Stands on an earthen dish that's clean and wide,
    And like a snow-white winter squirrel pelt
    A girl leans over wax and looks inside.
    Ours not is to divine the Greek Erebus:
    Wax is to her what bronze is to her mate.
    Our dice falls only in the field of battle;
    But women die as they're predicting fate.

    By Osip Mandelshtam
    Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
    https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From Ilya Shambat@1:229/2 to All on Friday, May 28, 2021 14:52:32
    From: ibshambat@gmail.com

    In science of parting I received instruction
    From hatless laments of the sleepless night
    As oxen chewed, and grew the expectation,
    And end of city vigil was in sight -
    And I recall the rooster night that year
    When lost in doleful journey for too long
    Into the void the tear-drenched eyes did peer
    And woman's cry mingled with muse's song.

    Who yet again can say farewell, unknowing
    What longing and what sorrow waits for us,
    What good is it to judge the rooster's crowing
    When fire is burning in Acropolis;
    And on the somewhere dawn of some new lifetime,
    While oxen lazily chew roughage at the stall,
    Why does the rooster, herald of new lifetime,
    Flap his flamboyant wings on city wall?

    And yet I love the way fate weaves her gown:
    The shuttle runs, the spindle turns apace,
    And straight ahead, look now, for like swan's down
    The barefoot Delia is flying in your face!
    Structure of life is shoddily created
    When tongue is starved so utterly for light!
    All was before, and all will be repeated,
    And only recognition brings respite.

    Thus it will be: A figurine, transparent,
    Stands on an earthen dish that's clean and wide,
    And like a snow-white winter squirrel pelt
    A girl leans over wax and looks inside.
    Ours not is to divine the Greek Erebus:
    Wax is to her what bronze is to her mate.
    Our dice falls only in the field of battle;
    But women die as they're predicting fate.

    By Osip Mandelshtam
    Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
    https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From Ilya Shambat@1:229/2 to All on Monday, June 21, 2021 16:42:23
    From: ibshambat@gmail.com

    In science of parting I received instruction
    From hatless laments of the sleepless night
    As oxen chewed, and grew the expectation,
    And end of city vigil was in sight -
    And I recall the rooster night that year
    When lost in doleful journey for too long
    Into the void the tear-drenched eyes did peer
    And woman's cry mingled with muse's song.

    Who yet again can say farewell, unknowing
    What longing and what sorrow waits for us,
    What good is it to judge the rooster's crowing
    When fire is burning in Acropolis;
    And on the somewhere dawn of some new lifetime,
    While oxen lazily chew roughage at the stall,
    Why does the rooster, herald of new lifetime,
    Flap his flamboyant wings on city wall?

    And yet I love the way fate weaves her gown:
    The shuttle runs, the spindle turns apace,
    And straight ahead, look now, for like swan's down
    The barefoot Delia is flying in your face!
    Structure of life is shoddily created
    When tongue is starved so utterly for light!
    All was before, and all will be repeated,
    And only recognition brings respite.

    Thus it will be: A figurine, transparent,
    Stands on an earthen dish that's clean and wide,
    And like a snow-white winter squirrel pelt
    A girl leans over wax and looks inside.
    Ours not is to divine the Greek Erebus:
    Wax is to her what bronze is to her mate.
    Our dice falls only in the field of battle;
    But women die as they're predicting fate.

    By Osip Mandelshtam
    Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
    https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From Ilya Shambat@1:229/2 to All on Wednesday, September 22, 2021 14:25:37
    From: ibshambat@gmail.com

    In science of parting I received instruction
    From hatless laments of the sleepless night
    As oxen chewed, and grew the expectation,
    And end of city vigil was in sight -
    And I recall the rooster night that year
    When lost in doleful journey for too long
    Into the void the tear-drenched eyes did peer
    And woman's cry mingled with muse's song.

    Who yet again can say farewell, unknowing
    What longing and what sorrow waits for us,
    What good is it to judge the rooster's crowing
    When fire is burning in Acropolis;
    And on the somewhere dawn of some new lifetime,
    While oxen lazily chew roughage at the stall,
    Why does the rooster, herald of new lifetime,
    Flap his flamboyant wings on city wall?

    And yet I love the way fate weaves her gown:
    The shuttle runs, the spindle turns apace,
    And straight ahead, look now, for like swan's down
    The barefoot Delia is flying in your face!
    Structure of life is shoddily created
    When tongue is starved so utterly for light!
    All was before, and all will be repeated,
    And only recognition brings respite.

    Thus it will be: A figurine, transparent,
    Stands on an earthen dish that's clean and wide,
    And like a snow-white winter squirrel pelt
    A girl leans over wax and looks inside.
    Ours not is to divine the Greek Erebus:
    Wax is to her what bronze is to her mate.
    Our dice falls only in the field of battle;
    But women die as they're predicting fate.

    By Osip Mandelshtam
    Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From Ilya Shambat@1:229/2 to All on Tuesday, September 28, 2021 15:29:55
    From: ibshambat@gmail.com

    In science of parting I received instruction
    From hatless laments of the sleepless night
    As oxen chewed, and grew the expectation,
    And end of city vigil was in sight -
    And I recall the rooster night that year
    When lost in doleful journey for too long
    Into the void the tear-drenched eyes did peer
    And woman's cry mingled with muse's song.

    Who yet again can say farewell, unknowing
    What longing and what sorrow waits for us,
    What good is it to judge the rooster's crowing
    When fire is burning in Acropolis;
    And on the somewhere dawn of some new lifetime,
    While oxen lazily chew roughage at the stall,
    Why does the rooster, herald of new lifetime,
    Flap his flamboyant wings on city wall?

    And yet I love the way fate weaves her gown:
    The shuttle runs, the spindle turns apace,
    And straight ahead, look now, for like swan's down
    The barefoot Delia is flying in your face!
    Structure of life is shoddily created
    When tongue is starved so utterly for light!
    All was before, and all will be repeated,
    And only recognition brings respite.

    Thus it will be: A figurine, transparent,
    Stands on an earthen dish that's clean and wide,
    And like a snow-white winter squirrel pelt
    A girl leans over wax and looks inside.
    Ours not is to divine the Greek Erebus:
    Wax is to her what bronze is to her mate.
    Our dice falls only in the field of battle;
    But women die as they're predicting fate.

    By Osip Mandelshtam
    Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
    https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)
  • From Ilya Shambat@1:229/2 to All on Saturday, January 01, 2022 14:07:34
    From: ibshambat@gmail.com

    In science of parting I received instruction
    From hatless laments of the sleepless night
    As oxen chewed, and grew the expectation,
    And end of city vigil was in sight -
    And I recall the rooster night that year
    When lost in doleful journey for too long
    Into the void the tear-drenched eyes did peer
    And woman's cry mingled with muse's song.

    Who yet again can say farewell, unknowing
    What longing and what sorrow waits for us,
    What good is it to judge the rooster's crowing
    When fire is burning in Acropolis;
    And on the somewhere dawn of some new lifetime,
    While oxen lazily chew roughage at the stall,
    Why does the rooster, herald of new lifetime,
    Flap his flamboyant wings on city wall?

    And yet I love the way fate weaves her gown:
    The shuttle runs, the spindle turns apace,
    And straight ahead, look now, for like swan's down
    The barefoot Delia is flying in your face!
    Structure of life is shoddily created
    When tongue is starved so utterly for light!
    All was before, and all will be repeated,
    And only recognition brings respite.

    Thus it will be: A figurine, transparent,
    Stands on an earthen dish that's clean and wide,
    And like a snow-white winter squirrel pelt
    A girl leans over wax and looks inside.
    Ours not is to divine the Greek Erebus:
    Wax is to her what bronze is to her mate.
    Our dice falls only in the field of battle;
    But women die as they're predicting fate.

    By Osip Mandelshtam
    Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)