Afternoon Of Circus And Citadel

In Brest, before the Fire-Hoops burning,

In the Tent, where Tigers sprang,

there I heard you, Finite, singing,

there I saw you, Mandelstam.

The Sky hung over the Roadstead,

the Gull, hung over the Crane.

The Finite sang there, the Constant –

you, the Gunboat, Baobab.

I hailed the Tricolor

with a Russian Word –

the Lost was Un-Lost,

the Heart Anchored there.