Zofia

there will be no such thing as dreams in your dreams
there will be no summer or spring for you

you will not have any bread or drink
you will not live in your homeland

you will not have a palm on whiskey
there will be no cleansing longing

there will be no more tree from the eyes
there will be no loneliness for you

there will be no suffering and evil for you
there will be no compassion for heat

there will be neither happiness nor trouble for you
there will be no bread or water for you

there will be no sobs and tears to you
you will have no memory or dreams

there will be no reliable letter to you
there will be no more former mind.

Drown in the dark over time.
Blind. You die in prison.

The former is turning its back,
reality will fall. –

I hung up the phone,
but said, disconnected, he.

I tied a tie and went out.

Chapter two

On Christmas Eve I was called to the pies.

Outside the windows circled
Crude nightly snowfall,
advertising light up at random,
trams rattled in the distance,
the boys turned to the river,
crows rolled up to detective,
cornices struck with whiteness,
shop windows excited minds,
excitement by the rules of winter
swept the city in the gloom,
excitement reigned in the mind,
and the bulbs dived at the gate
in the sky covered by snow.

Vans drove off into the dark,
trams rattled on the bridge,
excitement and longing reigned,
an unfrozen river rustled,
swinging calendar sheet,
lantern swung reflection,
rushed in the gloom on the wall
private window and snowfall.
Swinging over a snowdrift fence,
the cathedral swayed in the gloom,
inside he trembled a chapel,
the bell swayed, buzzed,
clock hands trembled,
God swayed in heaven.

Swing curtain at the shoulder,
behind the windows a two-headed candle
swaying with a sense of triumph,
swaying Christmas dusk,
who knows, how to rock longing,
so that by touching the temple
the curtain swinging on the window,
shadows swayed on the wall,
so that the bush grabbed by bulbs
swayed by the pendulum of feelings
(confusion - humiliation - and revenge)
with the difference, so as not to count time,
with the difference, so as not to wait for time,
with the difference, so as not to convey feelings.

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Joseph Brodsky
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