Here lived Shveygolts, killed his…

Here lived Shveygolts, killed his
mistress - from a pure window dressing.
He said: “Now she is in Paradise”.
Then rumors circulated about him,
that he himself was on the edge
insanity. Lies! I rise.
He was a pose and even for an old woman –
mothers - I was a member of his family –
did not make an exception.
She is
now wanders about lawyers,
in a skinny coat, in a linen scarf.
And those behind the door curse obscenities
her accent and that she is poor.
Unhappy, she is his one
in the world does not consider guilty.
She wanders to the trolley. By the day
consciousness boy pops up, affection
ashamed, who loved milk,
sick, rereading fairy tales…
And all, Besides, finely!
Get off now… But go far.
The trolleybus is full. Laughing masks.
Georgian yells over Suliko’s ear.
And only death alone will save her
of grief, poverty and the rest.
May come, May nine thousand
this from P. H., sixty-seventh.
The figure in white "cancer" will pronounce.
She is her angel, from the heights
come down, deems or earthly.
And fly away from dried honeycombs
bee, her so stinging.
days
will go, as if not knowing about cancer.
Looking at the hospital lights,
somehow we don’t think about darkness.
Her natural death is akin to
will be violent: they –
days are moving. And her son in the hut
counts them, Lord bless him.

1969

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Joseph Brodsky
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