Snowstorm in Massachusetts

Victoria Schweizer

Snowing - is much that day.
So metet, at least put on a black jacket.
The town covered with snow. Can not see the fields.
so white, it can not be whiter.

Or maybe: on the go and watch.
But the minute they are less, than snow here.
At night, the darkness, it has always been
impenetrable, and th, as the bed, White.

Dial, boyfriend, this thing in a handful of,
to estimate the, how many kilometers from God –
pier, not for nothing that the whole of January prayed landscape
visits came about gratuitous whitewash.

If all of a sudden the earth, that is so poor,
in the end it turned out to be only one
side of the face, one cheek.
And it went all the silk bride.

Heavy snow flies with sleet.
Know, vengeance carousing dashing blind.
And whatever he touches, it just
It turns on the eyes thorn.

Although the receiver is turned on, songs that he sang.
And not silence itself - space.
A letter writing - kind of paper fervor
cools, the door, that cover forgot.

And it is impossible to strip naked, to go.
No rubaha white, and sloping shoulders.
Because of them, go, and are shelf
at you in the glass, rolling proteins.

Mother, metet, metet. Do not look out the window.
There's a gift waiting for mercy, but
muskulistыy brother, swaddling wilderness
in cloth color forgiven shower.

1990, South Hadley

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Joseph Brodsky
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