How nice evening in the hut…

How nice evening in the hut,
entangled in his fate,
discard the thought of self
and, pretending, that sleep,
forget the world svolochnaya
and listening in the darkness night,
in the spine furnace
raged mouse.

How nice evening gathering
sheets in a random notebook
and know, there is no one to tell lies:
"overthrown!», "exalted!».
Babel reasons
and substantial men
preferring to crack Luchin
mousetrap and sleep.

Since the spring is not fuels, And me
zaplesneveloy in silence
quickly wrap up in scarves,
than expose the heart.
Neither wayward teacher,
or a group of angels, is not God,
stepping the threshold
We do not learn to live.

Aug. Sept 1965

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Joseph Brodsky
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