*
Here is a merchant from Asia. Explanatory
He was a merchant - the business, but noticeable.
Died quickly: a fever. On trading
He sailed for here, not for it.

Next to him - a legionnaire, a coarse quartz.
He was in the battles of the Empire glorified.
Many times to kill him! but died an old man.
Even here, there, Postum, rules.

*
Let indeed, Postum, the chicken is a bird
but harebrained enough grief.
If you fell in the Empire to be born,
better to live in a remote province near the sea.

And far from Caesar, and the blizzard.
Fawn does not need to trot, make haste.
Say that all the governors - a thief?
But the thief to me a mile than the leech.

*
This downpour to wait with you, Hetero,
I agree, but let's not trade:
take sesterces from covering the body
anyway, that the demand for roofing shingles.

Occur, you say? But where's the pool?
To leave a puddle I did not happen.
Here you will find yourself of a husband,
He will proceed on the bedspread.

*
Here we lived more than half.
As I said before the tavern, the old servant:
"We're looking back, we see only the ruins."
View, of course, a very barbaric, but true.

Was in the mountains. Now busy with a large bouquet.
'll Find a large pitcher, pour water to them ...
How is it in Libya, my Postum - or wherever?
Is is still fighting for?

*
Remember, Postum, the governor of my sister?
Thin, but with full legs.
You slept with her yet ... Recently became a priestess.
Priestess, Postum, and communicates with the gods.
[Come, popem wine, ate bread.
Or plums. Tell me the news.
You will lay in the garden under the clear sky
and tell you what are called constellations.

*
Soon, Postum, a friend of yours who loves addition,
duty to his long-time subtraction of pay.
Take out from under the pillow savings
there a little, but enough for the funeral.
Go to his black mare
in a town house hetero our wall.
Give them a price for which love,
so that for the same price and mourned.

*
Greenery of laurel, reaching to tremble.
Door wide open, dusty window.
Chair abandoned, left behind a couch.
Tissue, absorbed the midday sun.
Pont noise behind the black fence of pines.
Someone's boat with the wind fighting off Cape.
Cracked on the bench - Pliny the Elder.
Blackbird chirping in the cypress shock of hair.

Mart 1972

*
Here is a merchant from Asia. Explanatory
He was a merchant - the business, but noticeable.
He died quickly, such as fever. On trading
He sailed for here, but not for this.

Next to him - legionnaire, a coarse quartz.
He battles the Empire glorified.
So much time to kill! and died old.
Even here, there, Postum, rules.

*
Let indeed, Postum, the chicken is a bird
but harebrained enough grief.
If you dropped out of the Empire to be born,
better to live in a remote province near the sea.

And far from Caesar, and the blizzard.
Fawn does not need a coward, in a hurry.
You say that all the governors - a thief?
But the thief to me dearer than the blood-sucker.

*
This downpour to wait with you, Thais,
I agree, but let's not trade:
take sesterces from covering the body
anyway, that demand from the roof shingles.

Occur, you say? But where is the pool?
To leave a puddle I did not happen.
Here you will find yourself some of her husband,
and he will proceed to the veil.

*
So we spent more than half.
As I said before the old slave Tavern:
"We're looking around, seeing nothing but ruins."
Opinion, of course, a very barbaric, but true.

Was in the mountains. Now vozhus with big bouquet.
'll Find a large pitcher, pour water to them ...
How is it in Libya, my Postum - or wherever?
Is is still fighting?

*
Remember, Postum, the governor of my sister?
Thin, but with full legs.
You slept with her yet ... Recently become a priestess.
Priestess, Postum, and communicates with the gods.
[Come, popem wine, ate bread.
Or plums. Tell me the news.
Will lay in the garden under a clear sky
and tell you what are called constellations.

*
Soon, Postum, a friend of yours who loves addition,
its long-standing debt to pay subtraction.
Take out from under the pillow savings
there a little, but enough for the funeral.
Go on a black mare of his
at home under the city heteras our wall.
Give them a price for that love,
so for the same price and wept.

*
Laurel Greens, reaching to tremble.
The door is wide open, dusty window.
Chair abandoned, left behind a couch.
Tissue, absorbed the midday sun.
Pont noise behind the black fence of pine trees.
Someone's boat with the wind at Cape fights.
Cracked on the bench - Senior Pliny.
Blackbird chirping in the cypress shock of hair.

Mart 1972

February 13, 1964 Brodsky was arrested on a charge of parasitism. February 14, he suffered in the chamber first heart attack. Since that time, Brodsky constantly suffered angina, which always reminded him of death (without interfering with the order to be a heavy smoker).
Two meetings of Brodsky's trial were zakonspektirovany Frida Vigdorova and content is made in the samizdat of the White Paper.

Judge: Your work experience?
Brodsky: Around ...
Judge: We are not interested in "approximately"!
Brodsky: Five years.
Judge: Where did you work?
Brodsky: The plant. In geological parties ...
JUDGE: How long have you worked at the factory?
Brodsky: Year.
Judge: What?
Brodsky: a milling machine.
Judge: And in general what is your specialty?
Brodsky: Poet, poet and translator.
Judge: And who is acknowledged that you're a poet? Who are you ranked the poets?
Brodsky: No one. (No calls). And who ranked me to the human race?
Judge: And you learned this?
Brodsky: What?
Referee: To be a poet? Not trying to finish high school, where they cook ... where you learn ...
Brodsky: I did not think ... I do not think it provides education.
Judge: What?
Brodsky: I think it's ... (confused) ... from God ...
Judge: Do you have a petition to the court?
Brodsky: I would like to know: what I was arrested?
Judge: This is an issue, not a petition.
Brodsky: So I have no application.

All the prosecution witnesses began their testimony by saying: "I am not personally familiar Brodsky ...", echoing the wording of a model bullying Pasternak: "I have not read Pasternak's novel, but condemn !..». Brodsky was sentenced to the maximum possible under the decree of "social parasitism" punishment - five years of forced labor in remote areas. He was exiled to Konosha region of Arkhangelsk region and settled in the village Norenskaya. In an interview with Volkov Brodsky called this the happiest time in my life. It is in exile Brodsky met with English poetry, including Uistenom Auden ......

So he saw his face.
     And concluded that man is capable of
     carry any stroke of fate,
     that grief and joy in equal measure
     him to face: how curvy clothes
     king. And as the rags of poverty.
     He has tried, and found that all
     that he has tried, it turned out just right.

        II

     And then he looked around.
     Treat others have the right
     only a carefully considered.
     However the series before it went
     apothecaries, soldiers, Pied Piper,
     moneylenders, writers, and merchants -
     The Netherlands looked at him
     like a mirror. And the mirror was able to
     truthfully - and for many centuries -
     Holland and capture what
     one and the same thing together
     all of these - young and old - a person;
     and the name of that common thing - light.

     No person differ, but the light is different:
     Some, like lamps, from the inside
     lit. Others - like
     all that light bulb.
     And in this - the essence of the difference.
     But he
     Who created this world, at the same time
     (And not without reason) created a shadow.
     A shadow is not just a state of light
     but something equally important and even
     sometimes exceeding it.

     Any facial expression -
     confusion, hope, folly, fury
     and even referred to the mask
     calm - not a credit life
     Or the most facial muscles, but only
     merit coverage.
     Only these
     Two things - the shadow and light - we make
     in humans.

     True?
     Well, put the experience:
     zaduyte candles, draw the curtains.
     What's in the dark are your people?

        III

     But people think otherwise. People
     believe that they are something people argue
     acts committed, love, lying,
     even prophesy.
     Meanwhile,
     they just enjoy the light
     and often abuse them
     as every thing that went in vain.
     One sometimes obscures light to others.
     Other shade.
     And still others strive to outshine the whole world
     his persona - anything can happen.
     And for the other he suddenly goes out.

        IV

     And when he goes out for
     whom we love, and for us not to go out
     when you can see only
     those for whom you and watch you do not want
     (Including at myself)

     if you're turning my eyes to the fact
     that before were only background
     your portraits and paintings -
     to the ground ...

     The tragedy is over. Actor
     goes away. But the scene - remains
     and begins to live his life.

     Well, as a thankful
     Show with all the passion of the scene.

     You said his monologue. She
     outlive your words, your voice
     and the thunder of applause, and silence,
     so much palpable after
     applause. And then - you
     all survived.

        V

     Well, then,
     You knew it before. It is - also
     path in the darkness.
     But is it really necessary
     fear of darkness? Because darkness
     only form of saving the world
     from unnecessary spending, just a form of sleep,
     semblance of respite.
     And the artist -
     the artist must see in the dark.

     Well, he sees it. Part of the face.
     Shred some tissues. Edge of the cart.
     Back of the head somewhere. Tree. Pitcher.
     All of this would snovidenya light
     asleep at the time of a sound sleep.

     But sooner or later he will wake up.

1971

So he saw his face.
     And concluded that man is capable of
     carry any stroke of fate,
     that grief or joy in equal measure
     him to face: how curvy clothes
     king. And as the rags of poverty.
     He has tried, and found that all
     that he tried, it turned out just right.

        II

     And then he looked around.
     Treat others have the right
     only properly examined himself.
     And before him came a succession of
     chemists, soldiers, Piper,
     moneylenders, writers, merchants -
     Holland looked at him
     as in a mirror. And the mirror was able to
     true - and for many centuries -
     capture the Netherlands and that
     one and the same thing together
     all those - young and old - a person;
     and the name of the common things - light.

     Not a person different, but the light is different:
     Some, like lamps, from the inside
     lit. Others - like the
     all that light bulb.
     And this - the essence of the difference.
     But one
     Who created this world, at the same time
     (And not without reason) to create a shadow.
     A shadow is not just a state of light,
     but something equivalent, and even
     sometimes superior to him.

     Any facial expression -
     confusion, hope, folly, fury
     and even referred to the mask
     calm - not a credit life
     il the most facial muscles, but only
     service coverage.
     Only these
     Two things - the shadow and light - we make the
     in humans.

     It is not true?
     Well, put the experience:
     zaduyte candles, draw the curtains.
     What's in the dark are your people?

        III

     But people think otherwise. People
     believe that they are about something argue
     deeds are committed, love, lying,
     even prophesy.
     Meanwhile,
     they just enjoy the light
     and often abuse them,
     like all things that went in vain.
     One sometimes obscures light to others.
     Other shade.
     And still others strive to outshine the whole world
     his persona - anything can happen.
     And for certain he suddenly goes out.

        IV

     And when he goes out for
     whom we love, and for us not extinguished
     when you can see only
     those whom you do not want to watch and
     (Including, for himself)

     Then you pay your eyes to the fact
     that before was only the background
     your portraits and paintings -
     to the ground ...

     The tragedy is over. Actor
     goes away. But the scene - remains
     and begins to live his life.

     Well, as a grateful
     Show with all the passion of the scene.

     You said his monologue. It
     outlive your words, your voice
     and thunderous applause, and silence,
     so much palpable after
     applause. And then - you
     all survived.

        V

     Well, then,
     you knew it before. It is - also
     path in the darkness.
     But is it really necessary
     fear of darkness? Because darkness
     only form of saving the world
     from the waste of resources, just a form of sleep,
     sort of respite.
     And the artist -
     the artist must see and in the darkness.

     Well, he sees it. Part of the face.
     Shred some tissues. Edge of the cart.
     Nape someone. Tree. Pitcher.
     All of this would be a dream world,
     asleep at the time of a sound sleep.

     But sooner or later he will wake up.

1971

- Perhaps so. He really was not a dissident. And always stressed that what is alien to any kind of political struggle. For it was fundamentally important to be appreciated for poetic lines, not the opposition political leadership of the USSR. Although the Anna Akhmatova during the trial of Brodsky said: "What they're doing a biography our red-headed", referring to the just fame of Brodsky as a fighter against the regime.

- With a light hand Yevtushenko went for a walk the phrase: "The poet in Russia is more than a poet." Even thinks that if a poet in Russia, "no more", then it is not a poet at all. And Brodsky wanted to be exactly a poet - no more and no less ...

- Yes, yes. He wanted to assess his texts are not mingled with nothing more: no politics, no biography.

- You once said of his essays you especially for the soul "Room and a Half" and "Journey to Istanbul". Well, "Room and a Half" appeals to many. And why "Journey to Istanbul"?

- And because it is a striking example of intellectual courage, bravery and even the lack of any hint of banality. I think he managed to say in this essay is that many are still afraid to utter. In general, I was captivated by his Essay-Like Interpretation. I still think it's - the best in the world, and Brodsky - the world's best essayist. I even once told him about it.

- And what did he say?

- He said: Come on, Adam, all this is written for a living.

- Can I ask you: what you gave Brodsky's poetry?

- And what gave you the poetry of Lermontov, for example?

- Well, thanks to him I learned to appreciate the Russian landscape.

- Okay, I'll answer. Brodsky's poetry, if you're passionate about it, necessarily teach you how to really relate to God and the divine in you most. He will pull you to these heights, and you'll be grateful to him for the ascent.

- Pan, Adam, and when you still got acquainted with him?

- In 1990, the United States. There was something close to a university conference in New York. Introduced us to Czeslaw Milosz.

- They say that first impression - the right one. What kind of impression he made on you?

- I could not shake the feeling that talking to a genius.
http://www.rg.ru/2011/05/24/mihnik.html

- Perhaps so. It really was not a dissident. And always stressed that what is alien to whatever political struggle. For him, it was crucial to his prized for poetic lines, not the opposition political leadership of the USSR. Although the Anna Akhmatova during the trial of Brodsky said: "What a biography they are doing to our red-headed", referring to the just fame of Brodsky as a fighter with the regime.

- With a light hand Yevtushenko went for a walk the phrase: "A poet in Russia is more than a poet." Even thinks that if a poet in Russia, "no more", then it is not a poet at all. And Brodsky wanted to be exactly a poet - no more and no less ...

- Yes, true. He wanted to assess his texts are not mingled with anything more, neither politics nor biography.

- You once said of his essay to you especially in mind, "Room and a Half" and "Journey to Istanbul". Well, "Room and a Half" appeals to many. And why "The Journey to Istanbul"?

- And because this is an amazing example of intellectual courage, courage, and yet lack any hint of banality. I think he managed to say in this essay is that many are still afraid to utter. Actually, I was captivated by his essays. I still think she is - the best in the world, and Brodsky - the world's best essayist. I even once told him about it.

- And what did he say?

- He said: Come on, Adam, all this is written for a living.

- Can I ask you: What gave you the poetry of Brodsky?

- And what gave you the poetry of Lermontov, for example?

- Well, thanks to him I learned to appreciate the Russian landscape.

- Okay, I'll tell you. Brodsky's poetry, if you're passionate about it, necessarily teach you how to really relate to God and the divine in you the most. He will pull you to these heights, and you'll thank him for this ascent.

- Pan, Adam, and when you are still met with him?

- In 1990, the United States. There was some university conference not far from New York. Introduced us to Czeslaw Milosz.

- They say the first impression - the right one. What kind of impression he made on you?

- I could not shake the feeling that talking to a genius.
http://www.rg.ru/2011/05/24/mihnik.html

people. They will die.
Everything. I too will die.
This is a fruitless labor.
How to write in the wind.

3

My blood is cold.
Chill its strong indeed
rivers, frozen to the bottom.
I do not like people.

Their appearance is not for me.
Persons of their grafted
to live a non-
releasing form.

Something in their faces there,
that is contrary to the mind.
What is flattery
God knows who.

4

Things pleasant. They
there is neither evil nor good
externally. And if INEC
in them - and within the interior.

Inside objects - dust.
Dust. Teredo-beetle.
Wall. Dry bloodworm.
Uncomfortable for the hands.

Dust. And a light on
only illuminate the dust.
Even if the subject
hermetically closed.

5

Old buffet outside
as well as inside,
reminds me
Notre-Dame de Paris.

In the depths of dark cupboard.
Mop, stole
dust can not be erased. Itself
thing, as a rule, the dust

not endeavor to overcome,
does not bother eyebrow.
For the dust - it's flesh
time; flesh and blood.

6

Recently, I
sleeping in broad daylight.
Apparently, my death
I am being tried,

raised, even breathing,
eerkalo my mouth -
I stand
nothingness in the light.

I am still. Two
thighs are as cold as ice.
Venous blue
marble gives.

7

Presenting a surprise
sum of its angles
thing falls out
world order of words.

Thing is not worth it. And do not
moves. It is - absurd.
Thing is the space outside
whose belongings there.

Thing you can bang, burn,
gut, break down.
Quit. At the same thing
do not shout: "I'll be damned!"

8

Tree. Shadow. Land
under the tree to the roots.
Gnarled monogram.
Clay. Ledge.

Roots. They cover.
Stone, whose personal goods
free from
This system ties.

He was motionless. No
move or carry.
Shadow. The man in the shadows
like a fish in the net.

9

Thing. Brown
things. Whose contour is erased.
Dusk. No more
nothing. Still Life.

Death will come and find
body, whose surface of the visit
death, as if the arrival
women who reflect.

This is absurd, nonsense:
skull, skeleton, scythe.
"Death will come, she
will your eyes. "

10

Mother says to Christ:
- You are my son or my
God? You nailed to the cross.
How can I go home?

How stuplyu on the threshold,
without understanding, without solving:
you are my son or God?
That is, dead or alive?

He says in reply:
- Dead or alive
difference was found there.
Son or God, I am yours.