On the Death of Zhukov

I see column missed first trimester sounds,
grave Carriages, horse croup.
Wind brings me here is not sound
Russian military weeping pipes.
I see in regalia cleaned corpse:
in death leaves a flaming Zhukov.

Warrior, before whom many fell
walls, though the sword was foes toupee,
brilliance of Hannibal maneuver
reminding among the Volga steppes.
Cum his days in disgrace deaf,
how Belisarius or Pompeii.

How much blood he shed soldier
in a foreign land! Well, mourned?
Whether they remembered, dying in plain
white bed? pratfall.
What did he answer, met in hellish
field with them? "I fought".

For a good cause Zhukov right hand
no longer will use in combat.
Sleep! In the history of Russian page
enough for people, who in the infantry ranks
boldly entered the wrong capital,
but back in fear in their.

marshal! Summer greedy swallow
these words and your prahorya.
Yet, accept them - miserable mite
home who saved, speaking aloud.
Bay, drum, and, military flute,
loud whistle in the manner of a bullfinch.


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Joseph Brodsky
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