Under a spreading elm, shepchushtim "it-will-IIIe»…

Under a spreading elm, shepchushtim "it-will-IIIe»,
turning this coffee shop into nowhere, in general
place is like any tree, be it elm
or alder - for the green is outliving you,

I, otherwise no one, all man, one
of, dried smear in one of the living pictures,
which time writes, dipping brush
for lack of, right, the best palette in jist,

I'm sitting, rustling newspaper, thinking, with which
nature it is all written off? whose peace,
namelessness, addresslessness, form of nonexistence
we repeat in summer twilight - elm and I?


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Joseph Brodsky
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