Unfinished passage (The plane flies in the West…)

F. W.

The plane flies in the West,
expanding the circle of those places
- from country to another country, –
where you can not meet me.

Outrunning the days, of the year,
the shadow of the wings "never"
on land and on water
turns into "nowhere".

This pain is stronger, than that:
hearing is not a couple,
for time is the domain of phrases,
and space is the food of the eyes.

In the woods, fields, housing,
exactly label - on linen,
this shadow is everywhere - even cry
that's why, that just sighted.

Chastokol stopped, the borders
- what grief to behold, that nice, –
what does he look like from the heights,
leper colony for two hundred


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Joseph Brodsky
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