Merida

brown city. Fan
palm trees and roof tiles
old buildings.
With the cafe from, night
into it. sits
at an empty table.

The gilded rays
ultramarine sky
bell, just
someone strumming keys:
sound, full of bliss
for the homeless. Point

lights near
with the bell tower of the Cathedral.
Apparently, Vesper.
Watched him,
complete if not reproach,
but doubts, night

He finishes his coffee,
coloring his cheeks.
Pay for this
cup. Hat on eyebrows
nadvinuv, He gets up from the chair,
adds the newspaper

and out. empty
street escorts
long black
couple figure. room
shadows around him.
Under the canopy - useless

sbrod: bad form,
spots, torn loops.
He casts a weary:
“gentlemen.
Speak immediately.
The time has come.

And now - in all directions.
You, Col., What means
the onion smell?”
He unties Ravens
horse. And jumps
further west.

1975

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Joseph Brodsky
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