BUT. D. hireling

Once this southern town
It was the site of my good-bye to a friend;
We were both young and appointment
assigned to each other on the pier,
erected in ancient times; from books
we knew of its existence.
many waves crashed since then.
My friend drowned on land small,
but bitter falsehood own; and I
He embarks on a journey.
Here I am again
I stand here tonight. No one
I have not met. And most
I have no one to tell: come
there and then, and then some.
cries of seagulls.
Splash of breaking waves.
Lighthouse, whose tower attracts the eye
rather photographer, than navigator.
In the ancient rock I stand alone,
my sorrow is not defiled antiquity –
compounding. Apparently, land
voystynu round, once you come
there, where there is nothing, besides

1968(?), Yalta

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Joseph Brodsky
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