It’s difficult reading poetry in translation. I’ve read all the usual Russian poets: Akhmatova, Tsvetaeva, Pasternak, Brodsky, and the elusive Mandelstam, but I can’t imagine that much of the poetry comes through. English translators usually avoid trying to reproduce the metres with any exactitude, and English is a notoriously rhyme-poor language, despite its richness and subtlety.
I’ve read, on and off, for some weeks Mandelstam’s poem Solominka which, even in English is beautiful and abstruse. As Guy Davenport writes in The Geography of the Imagination, “A Mandelstam poem lives inside itself.” Mandelstam likened the physical quality of the word to a paper lantern with a candle inside. “Sometimes the candle inside was the meaning and the paper and frame were the sound structure; and sometimes the paper and frame were the meaning and the candle was the sound.” Even the poem’s title is rich in allusion, being the diminutive of the Russian word for straw, but also the Russian diminutive form of Salomé, who not only famously danced for John the Baptist’s head (my favourite Strauss opera), but also is the name of a Georgian beauty with whom Mandelstam was in love.
Mandelstam was also a superb essayist, and these offer a more accessible way to his thought, as in the collection in The Noise of Time [PDF]. In particular I adore Mandelstam’s apprehension of the rhythmic cadences “of the Divine Comedy first of all as a literary sublimate of the physical motion of walking”:
The question occurs to me-and quite seriously-how many shoe soles, how many ox-hide soles, how many sandals Alighieri wore out in the course of his poetic work, wandering about on the goat paths of Italy. The Inferno and especially the Purgatorio glorify the human gait, the measure and rhythm of walking, the foot and its shape. The step, linked to the berthing and saturated with thought: this Dante understands as the beginning of prosody. In order to indicate walking he uses a multitude of varied and charming turns of phrase.
Time's Flow Stemmed 
This reminds me of the discussion in David Harvey’s ‘The Condition of Postmodernity’ of the historical transformation of concepts of space and time (a discussion I found much too rich to really grasp). He writes, for example, that medieval mapping typically emphasized the sensuous rather than the rational and objective qualities of spatial order. Maps illustrated what you would see when you took a walk. When Europeans discovered there was something on the other side of the ocean, the sense of space changed again. Then there’s perspectivism in art (and individualism) and all the ramifications of the clock on our sense of time. We tend to take our current concepts of space and time for granted, but art and literature can take us back into the world before it became what we too often assume is the only possible “reality.”
This is the role of art and literature in disburdenment that I’ve written of here previously. People reared in different cultures live in different sensory environments or spaces, and often have different ways of regarding time. How else to even capture a sense of how time and space appear through different filters without art and literature? Thanks, Jan, for that wonderful comment.