Today is windy and the waves are cresting.
Soon the autumn, everything will change in the district.
Change colors of the touching, Postum,
costume changes than a friend.
Virgo flatters to a certain limit -
further steps should go, or tribe.
What a wonderful, joyful as outside the body:
or impossible to embrace, not treason!
*
I am sending you, Postum, these books
What's the capital? Gently stelyut? Sleep is not hard?
How is Caesar? What is he doing? All the intrigue?
All the intrigue, probably yes gluttony.
I was sitting in his garden, lit a lamp.
No friends, no servants, nor friends.
Instead of the weak and strong world that -
except in accordance with buzzing insects.
*
Here is a merchant from Asia. Explanatory
He was a merchant - the business, but inconspicuous.
He died quickly: fever. By trading
He sailed for here, but not for this.
Next to him - legionnaire, a coarse quartz.
He battles the Empire glorified.
How many times can kill! a dead old man.
Even here, there, Postum, rules.
*
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Let's really, Postum, a chicken not a bird,
but harebrained; I'd glare 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 from the blizzard.
Fawn does not need to feel nervous, hurry.
You say that all the governors - thief?
But the thief dearer to me than a spider.
*
This downpour to wait with you, Hetero,
I agree but let's not trade:
take sesterces from covering the body
anyway, that demand from the roof shingles.
Leak, you say? But where's the pool?
To leave a puddle I did not before.
Here you will find yourself some of her husband,
he will proceed on the bedspread.
*
So we spent more than half.
In the words of my old office in front of a tavern:
"We, looking back, we see only the ruins.
Look, of course, a very barbaric, but true.
Was in the mountains. Now busy with a large bouquet.
I'll find a large pitcher, pour water to them ...
As there in Libya, my Postum - or where is it?
Is is still fighting?
*
Remember, Postum, the governor sister?
A skinny, but with full legs.
You slept with her yet ... Recently became a priestess.
Priestess, Postum, and communicates with the gods. "
Come, drink wine, eat a bite bread.
Or drain. You'll tell me the news.
The bed you in the garden under the clear sky
and tell you what are called constellations.
*
Soon, Postum, a friend of yours, a loving addition,
duty to his long-time subtraction pay.
Take away from under the pillow savings
there are a few, but enough for the funeral.
Go to my black mare
the house under the city hetaerae our wall.
Give them a price that loved
so for the same price and mourned.
*
Green laurel, reaching to tremble.
Door too wide, dusty window.
Chair abandoned, left behind a couch.
The fabric has absorbed the midday sun.
Pont noise behind the black fence of pines.
Someone's boat with the wind fighting off Cape.
On the cracked bench - Pliny the Elder.
Drozd twitters in the shock of hair cypress.
Mart 1972
Добавлено через 14 минут
Akhmatova has played a crucial role in the life of Joseph Brodsky. She helped him realize how serious what he does. "Looking at her, you know how Russia could manage the Empress ...
To her I owe her the best human qualities ... It was never hatred, she did not reproach, with no one to clear accounts. She just could teach many lessons.
Humility, for example ... We talked just about everything - least of all about poetry ....
Close contact with Akhmatova, which became for him "absolutely necessary, something like addiction,
was interrupted by the arrest. "Akhmatova feel guilty, because they believed
that I have because of our friendship ... I do not think so. " Akhmatova was rushed to defend him,
addressing the most influential persons ... Ultimately,
thanks to her diligence and climbed to the West, noise, after a year and a half Brodskii was released (1965),.
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Ahmatova
Shouting and zahlopochut cocks
zagrohochut the avenue boots
sparkle horse emerald
overnight contemporaries die.
Sing over the lane flageolet,
break into the canal pistol
thunder on the window sill glass
will be in the room is particularly bright.
And pomchatsya, brushing against the bushes,
Invisible Soldiers stuffiness
trimmed along a new walkway,
like a shadow ovoid vessels.
So begins twenty-first, gold,
on the trail, red sun-drenched,
questions and curses in response
steam enveloping the light.
But the Champ de Mars dusk
You come all alone, alone,
in a blue dress, as has happened too many times,
but forever without fans, without us.
Only a paper tube in his hand,
a taxi for you goes the distance,
next brilliant splashes water
The asphalt sag wires.
You raise a great person -
loud laughter, as memorial word,
sound vague at the side a hot bridge -
for a moment enflame void.
I have not seen, I see your tears,
I do not hear rustling wheels
taking you to the Gulf, to the tree,
on the homeland without a monument to you.
In a warm room, as I recall, no books,
without fans, but also not for them,
Relying on the palm of his temple,
You write about us obliquely.
You say a while: "Oh, my God!
this air desolate - only flesh
Dumas, who left his confession,
not a new creation is yours! "
June 1962
http://a88.narod.ru/1062035p.htm 1.Velikaya Russian poetess Anna Akhmatova.
Photo by M. Nappelbaum.