By Osip Mandelshtam
In Petropole translucent we will die,
Where we are being ruled by Proserpina.
In every breath a deathly air we sigh
And every hour for us alike a mortal eon.
O ocean goddess, truculent Athena,
Your mighty helm of stone cast by!
In Petropole translucent we will die,
Where reigns not you, but Proserpina.