and then our exile

the whirlwind is in the thorn-tree

contractions are things which do not fit in serious poetry, i will close the book and read no more if i come across many. the following is a mandelstam translation by morrison, but even though i know no russian i am quite determined that it would sound so much better in englisch if
1) the words "don't" and "i'll" were not used, were "do not" and "i would" instead
2) the word "tinkled" were not used, something else was found
3) "feel easier with it" became "be more at rest", or something else.
4) "catch me" became "take hold of me"

//
like a little corpuscle, with the brimming
sun's aid the incendiary sliver of glass
turned itself over with a pinion
and caught fire in the empyrean.

a mosquitolike trifle, the splinter
whimpered and tinkled at its zenith
and, under the carabids' muted
singing, agonized in the azure:

don't forget me, put me to death,
but give me a name, give me a name!
i'll feel easier with it--catch me,
in the pregnant deep blue.