M. B.

Expensive, I came out today from the house late at night
some fresh air, veyuschim ocean.
Sunset was burning in the pit Chinese fan,
and cloud swirled, the cover of a concert piano.

A quarter-century ago, you appetite for lula and of dates,
ink drawing in a notebook, little singing,
amused with me; but then she took up with a chemical engineer
and, judging by the letters, monstrous poglupela.

Now you can see in the churches in the province and in the metropolis
at the memorial service for the common friends, is now reaching a solid
succession; and I'm glad, that is, the distance in the world more
unthinkable, than there is between you and me.

Do not get me sick. With your voice, the body, name
nothing is no longer connected; no one was killed,
but forget one life - a man needs, least,
another life. And I share this lived.

Lucky and you: where else, except that the photos,
thou shalt endure always wrinkle-free, young, cheerful, glumliva?
for the time, Faced with memory, He learns about his powerlessness.
I smoke in the dark and breathe punk tide.


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Joseph Brodsky
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