Osip Mandelstam

Your thin shoulders are for turning red under whips

Your thin shoulders are for turning red under whips,

turning red under whips, and flaming in the raw cold.
Your child's fingers are for lifting flatirons,
for lifting flatirons, and for knotting cords.
Your tender soles are for walking on broken glass,
walking on broken glass, across bloody sand.
And I'm for burning like a black candle lit for you,
for burning like a black candle that dare not pray.