In the evening he sees, froze in the doorway…


In the evening he sees, froze in the doorway:
two riders galloping in the surrounding fields,
like a circle, through the grove and causeway,
and for a long time can not catch up with each other.
That threw the reins, poniknuv, charter,
is back in the saddle excitedly getting up,
and quickly on the bright side of the hill,
in the grove again, where darkness thickens.

Two riders galloping in the mud of the evening,
not only from home, from the heart near,
they hailed each other, call,
heavenly ratification of the grove float.
And so they never in this world alone
through the grove and causeway, through the empty reservoir,
not to go because of the station positions,
as though not one hundred bushes between them!

evening ghosts! - where their tracks,
not see them double water splash,
them again returns to his silence,
he knows from shouting their names.
For rural road in cold dust,
under the black pines, in land komyah,
two horsemen gallop over the pale river,
two horsemen gallop: longing and quiet.


Empty road under pines sleeps,
ceases for glasses hoofs,
I know both, I know for a long time:
so the heart sounds, as they hurtle given.

So heart beats: blow-by-blow,
with fields sag cold fumes,
and waves sparkle in the coastal bush,
and loudly playing your favorite structure.

Melted them tramp, and the heart beats!
It comes down to a whisper, but all is not silent,
and, means, they continue to ride!
able to silence, can not - grow silent.

Two riders are racing in the midnight gloom,
in sequence, bending down to the saddle,
the groves and rivers, on the black forest,
there, where they will be able to soar to the heavens.


July night in the village dark.
Flying midges in gold window.
Hot receiver rings on the floor,
Gillespie and bold approaches to the table.

From sadness to solid black destiny,
Noise at the beginning to clear the pipe,
from the lyrics to the other enemy of happiness
beautiful in the world only two steps.

I do not like your life, not afraid,
I'm his age would not fight.
Let them say anything about,
I am concerned, ego merry.

Each outskirts of the country,
at each step, every wall,
at a short time, il brunette blonde,
will my spirit, two faces united.

And just for the death, at first,
at least this way, how to dispel the dust,
descendants outposts over the paper in the morning,
least expensive dust touch pen.


Two riders jump in space night,
bush collapsed in the fog river,
the farther, the closer, longing for the young
It rushes in the dark beautiful calm.

Two riders gallop, gee fied sting.
Over rural road all the stars are burning.
Hooves pounding on the ground fallen asleep.
Man and woman riding in the mist.

7 – 9 June 1962

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Joseph Brodsky
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