By denying me the seas, the right to run and fly, By holding my foot firm on the constrained earth, What have you achieved? A splendid calculation, But you couldn’t seize my muttering lips thereby.
by Осип Эмильевич Мандельштам (Osip Emilyevich Mandelshtam) (His surname is commonly Latinised as Mandelstam) (May 1935) Voronezh translated by Bernard Meares
Лишив меня морей, разбега и разлета…
Лишив меня морей, разбега и разлета И дав стопе упор насильственной земли, Чего добились вы? Блестящего расчета: Губ шевелящихся отнять вы не могли.
The night is dark. There is a moon. She is, of course, not alone, And I am absolutely not lonely, And just now – the bell rings. I hear a prearranged knock on the door, jump up, grasp the handshake, put on a raincoat, and we go out almost in a downpour of rain. We go out, and, it is to be supposed, we are going to overthrow someone.
by Yury Galanskov 1955 (?) translated by Albert C. Todd
Ночь темна
Ночь темна. Луна. Она, конечно, не одна. И я совсем не одинок, вот-вот — и прозвенит звонок. Услышу в дверь условный стук, вскочу, схвачу пожатье рук, надену плащ, и мы уйдем почти под проливным дождем. Уйдем, и надо полагать — идем кого-то низвергать.
Additional information: Ю́рий Тимофе́евич Галанско́в (Yuri Timofeyevich Galanskov); 19 June 1939 – 4 November 1972) was a Russian poet, historian, human rights activist and dissident. For his political activities, such as founding and editing samizdat almanac Phoenix, he was incarcerated in prisons, camps and forced treatment psychiatric hospitals (Psikhushkas). He died in a labor camp.
Galanskov’s father was a common worker. He studied briefly at Moscow University but was expelled in his second semester for “the independence of his views.” In 1961, as one of the first human rights activists, he helped found the underground journal Feniks (Phoenix), where, in the first number, his own poetry first appeared. The second number, Feniks 66, he published on his own. He was arrested in 1967 and sentenced with Aleksandr Ginzburg to seven years in a severe-regimen camp for assisting in the production of the White Book about the trial of Andrey Sinyavsky and Yuly Daniel. Beginning in 1969 he was in and out of prison hospitals for treatment of ulcers. He died tragically at the martyr’s age of thrity-three from a blood infection following an ulcer operation.
Galanskov was an unusually courageous, uncompromising enemy of the violence, vulgarity, and hypocrisy of the Soviet system; none of his poetry or essays was ever published in the official Soviet press during his lifetime.
Biographical information about Galanskov, p.954, ‘Twentieth Century Russian Poetry’ (1993), compiled by Yevgeny Yevtushenko (ed. Albert C. Todd and Max Hayward) , published by Fourth Estate Limited by arrangement with Doubleday of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group Inc. (transcribed as found in the original text).
Indifference – A house Packed with ice, Full of snow. Indifference – A house For freezing, Not for living. A vault. A plush crypt. Indifference. A house. Moldy bread and boxes. Peels, dead birds, combings, scrapings. Peer closely – here are also people, Two-humped people – freaks! And they kick off from boredom. And people! O people are camels! And virgins are whores. Peer closely. But try to enter in, Only try! I am like a physician, I tear out an eye, knock out teeth, But I will give back! Indifference. The coffin. Dead flesh. House of the dead. Bird feathers. Broken claws. Indifference. A house. Indifference.
by Дмитрий Васильевич Бобышев (Dmitry Vasilyevich Bobyshev) translated by Albert C. Todd
Равнодушие
Равнодушие — Набитый льдом, Наполненный снегом дом. Равнодушие — Не для жилья, Для замораживанья дом. Погреб. Плюшевый склеп. Равнодушие. Дом. Пыльный хлеб и коробки. Корки, мертвые птицы, очески, поскребыши. Загляни — здесь и люди, Двугорбые люди — уроды! И подохнут со скуки. И люди! О люди — верблюды! И девки — о потаскухи. Загляни. Но попробуй зайди — Лишь попробуй! Я уподоблюсь врачу. Вырву глаз, выбью зубы, А возвращу! Равнодушие. Гроб. Мертвечина. Муравьи и мышиный помет на полу. Мертвечина. Мертвый дом. Птичьи перья. Разбитые клешни. Равнодушие. Дом. Равнодушие.
Bobyshev grew up in Leningrad, where his father died during the blockade in World War II. In 1959 he completed studies at the Leningrad Technological Institute as a chemical engineer and worked in the fiend of chemical weapons. At the end of the 1960s he began working as an editor in the technical division of Leningrad television.
Bobyshev began to write poetry in the 1950s and was first published in the samizdat journal Sintaksis (Syntax) in 1959 and 1960 and then later briefly in Iunost’ (Youth) and Leningrad almanacs. His first collection, Ziianiia (Hiatus), appeared in Paris in 1979, the year he succeeded in immigrating to the United States. His resolution to be a poet was significantly affected by his meeting with Anna Akhmatova, who dedicated the poem “Piataia roza” (The Fifth Rose) to him, though he considers the poetry of Rilke to be his literary wellspring.
Biographical information about Bobyshev, p.862, ‘Twentieth Century Russian Poetry’ (1993), compiled by Yevgeny Yevtushenko (ed. Albert C. Todd and Max Hayward) , published by Fourth Estate Limited by arrangement with Doubleday of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group Inc. (transcribed as found in the original text).
Glazkov is one of the most talented representatives of the prewar generation, a friend of Mikhail Kulchitsky, Pavel Kogan, and Mikhail Lukonin. Unfortunately, his lot has not been easy. While Glazkov published many books and translations after the war, most of them were mediocre; his best pieces remained unpublished for a long time. His position in poetry is not commensurate with his very rare and unusual talent. He combines the cunning of a mountebank and a truly extraordinary gift for aphorism. Maany of Glazkov’s lines have become familiar maxims: “The more interesting the age is for the historian, the more miserable it is for its contemporaries”; “Poetry is the strong arms of a lame man”; “Thus did the stone age bureaucrats greet the first bronze ax”; and so forth. Glazkov regards himself as a follower of Velemir Khlebnikov, although, as he ironically remarks, “What was truly dramatic in the past may turn to farce.” There is something of Omar Khayyám, oddly transplanted to Russian soil, about Glaznikov. He is a wonderful poet who will be appreciated by future generations. He is credited with coining the term samizdat (self-publication) in defining his action of typing out copies of one of his books.
Biographical information about Glazkov, p.649, ‘Twentieth Century Russian Poetry’ (1993), compiled by Yevgeny Yevtushenko (ed. Albert C. Todd and Max Hayward) , published by Fourth Estate Limited by arrangement with Doubleday of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group Inc. (transcribed as found in the original text).
“Lilac ice cream! Lilac ice cream! Half a portion a dime! One bit for a scoop! Have some, sir! Buy one, madam, No need to argue, It’s as cheap as you need. Something just made for you, The great cuisine of the streets.
“I’ve got no custard ices, the pistachio’s all gone, Good people, come on! Why ask for caramel? It’s time to popularize, acquire the common people’s tastes! Out with gourmet refinements, sing gluttony’s praise.
“Lilac is license’s symbol. As its tender pink crown Lists to one side, Ice over, you waterfall heart, in a fragrant sweet bloom… Ice cream from lilac! Lilac ice cream. Hey there, the kid with that honey drink there, You’ll love it, young friend, just you try.”
by Игорь Северянин (Игор Васильевич Лотарёв) (Igor Severyanin a.ka. Igor Vasilevich Lotaryov) (1912) translated by Bernard Meares
Мороженое из сирени!
Мороженое из сирени! Мороженое из сирени! Полпорции десять копеек, четыре копейки буше. Сударышни, судари, надо ль? не дорого можно без прений… Поешь деликатного, площадь: придется товар по душе! Я сливочного не имею, фисташковое все распродал… Ах, граждане, да неужели вы требуете крем-брюле? Пора популярить изыски, утончиться вкусам народа, На улицу специи кухонь, огимнив эксцесс в вирелэ! Сирень — сладострастья эмблема. В лилово-изнеженном крене Зальдись, водопадное сердце, в душистый и сладкий пушок… Мороженое из сирени! Мороженое из сирени! Эй, мальчик со сбитнем, попробуй! Ей-Богу, похвалишь, дружок!
Rambling At The Bridge Head 
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