Osip Mandelstam, Untruth, translated by Ian Probstein

I come with a smoking torch In the hut of a six-fingered untruth: — Let me look at you, let me watch, Since I’ll be laid in a pine coffin, struth. She treats me with pickled mushrooms, Takes a pot from under her plank-bed And serves a fresh nourishing broth Cooked from infant belly buttons. […]