The Times Literary Supplement is one of my favorite book reviews. They do a poem every week, often from their archives. This first appeared in the TLS in 1971 and is translated by Max Hayward and Jon Stallworthy. The poem is introduced by Andrew McCulloch; to read his introduction, go here.
A Poem
I drink to Hussars’ epaulettes, and to all the rumours about me:
to astrakhan coats, and to asthma, to St. Petersburg ennui,
to the music of Savoyard pines, and the fumes of the Champs-Elysées,
to Parisian oils, and to roses on the seat of a Rolls coupé.
I drink to a jug of Swiss cream, and to Biscay’s sparkling wave,
to the hauteur of red-headed memsahibs, and quinine from the White Man’s Grave.
I drink, but I have not yet decided for which I should clap
my hands: ebullient Asti Spumante, or Chateauneuf du Pape.
OSIP MANDELSTAM (1931)
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