imitating Nekrasov, or Love Song Ivanova

Kazhinny times in this very place
I remember his fiancee.
I went into the tavern, I order two hundred.

The river runs at my feet, infection.
I tell her mentally: run away.
The eye - tear. But I see the corner of the eye
Foundry Bridge and the silhouette of a barge.

My fiancee loved friend.
I had learned, it just did not kill them.
But strict Code. And what is my merit,
that sustained character. true, drank.

I drank like a fish. If a plant
not expelled, I would have rotted on the vine.
When I see the phone booth,
then I go and sometimes call.

suitable each, and we bazlaem other.
He tells me: How do you, Ivanov?
How am i? I am silent. And he is in fear
Come, shouts, look at the boys.

They could do it, I. But in fact,
they did it. And point, and tire.
And I scream in response: That week.
But that week is not in the calendar.

Arm, Now where I keep polbanki,
clutching her dress through the buffer.
And so on. In the corner on the ottoman.
The impression, yesterday.

Mosley, overflowing pants,
lying on the bed, all wool.
And the throat wants to shout loudly: bitches!
But somehow she says: forgive.

For what? Whom? When I hear the seagulls,
the sharp cry me shudder.
The same sound, when she cums,
although then still moos: do not touch.

I knew her so, as before - the whole.
But life is flying, forgetting about the brakes.
And I'll take another bottle of white.
She color as her eyes.

1968

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Joseph Brodsky
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