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.