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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Not believing in the Resurrection</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Not believing in the Resurrection,<br>we strolled in the cemetery.<br>-- You know, the earth everywhere<br>reminds me of those hills<br>. . . . . . . . .<br>. . . . . . . . .<br>where Russia breaks off<br>above the black, deaf sea.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">II</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The broad meadow runs away<br>from the monastery's slopes.<br>I really didn't want to go so far<br>south of Vladimir's expanse,<br>but to stay in this wooded, dark,<br>and holy foolish place with such a dizzy nun<br>means disaster is in store.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">III</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I kiss the sunburned elbow<br>and a waxen patch of forehead.<br>I know it is still white<br>under the tawny golden locks.<br>I kiss the wrist where a bracelet<br>has left a white band.<br>The flaming summer of the Taurides<br>causes such marvels.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">IV</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">How quickly you tanned,<br>came up and kissed the poor Savior,<br>couldn't tear yourself away --<br>but in Moscow, you were proud.<br>Only the name is left for us --<br>a marvelous, drawn-out sound.<br>Take this sand being poured<br>with my hands.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Osip+Emilevich+Mandelstam">Osip Emilevich Mandelstam</a></strong></div>

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