Osip Mandelshtam
With a mother-of-pearl shuttle...

With a mother-of-pearl shuttle
Weave the silk threads in;
O nimble fingers, begin
The task that weaves a spell.

The hands move left and right
In a never varying motion;
No question that you summon
Something terrible, like sunlight,

When the hand, spread open, glows
Like a shell that flushes crimson;
Now it darkens with shade and then
Glides into fiery rose.

Translated by Robert Tracy