Poetry Friday: Only to read children's books

Happy Poetry Friday, everyone!

This Friday I'm sharing an on-topic poem from one of my favorite Russian poets, Osip Mandelstam.

Only to read childrens’ books
by Osip Mandelstam

Only to read childrens’ books,
only to love childish things,
throwing away adult things,
rising from saddest looks.

I am wearied to death with life.
There’s nothing it has that I want,
but I celebrate my naked earth,
there’s no other world to descant.

A plain swing of wood;
the dark, of the high fir-tree,
in the far-off garden, swinging;
remembered by feverish blood.

Translated by A.S. Kline, who has a wonderful archive of Poetry in Translation. Check his site out when you have a chance--there are some beautiful original poems available as well.

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Updated: Susan at Chicken Spaghetti will be rounding up this week's entries. If you've left me a comment, I'll send it Susan's way. Thanks, Susan!