Classic and Contemporary Poetry
KELOMYAKKI, by JOSEPH BRODSKY Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Dumped in the dunes snatched from the witless finns | ||||||||
I Lost in the dunes, taken from Chukhnov, plywood town, whose walls barely sneeze - telegram flying from Sweden: "Be healthy". And no ax not nakolesh firewood heat indoors. conversely, other House was trying to warm his back most winter and plant flowers blue glass veranda in the evening; and you, How to prepare for escape and finding the azimuth, I fell asleep there in woolen socks. II small, flat waves of the sea with the letter "b", highly similar from a distance with thoughts about yourself, assailed by convolutions on a deserted beach and regedit into wrinkles. dry jitters bare twigs of hawthorn sometimes forced retina covered with speckled bark. And then there were the gulls from the snowy haze, how to draw greasy hand corners white, as an empty paper, of the day; and for a long time no one lit a fire. III In small towns people know not in person, but on the backs of the long queues; and the public on Saturday been built up in single file, as the caravan in the desert, for chess. sand or net Baltic herring, punched a hole in the budget. In a small town usually eat also, the rest. And to distinguish themselves could from them only with copying a ruble Kremlin spire, tapers to a star, or - seeing your things everywhere. IV For all that, they were strong, These discarded matchboxes lumbered with them two or three dishes raw heads. AND, sparrow feeding, it there with all the family looked out the window, where trees too then merged into one ebony, trying to develop sky - and that happened to six hours, when the book slammed shut and when of you were only lip, both of cat. V This external generosity, this, for that matter, gift - turning cold inside, exude warmth outside - guests brought together housing, and winter on a bedsheet rope considered her underwear. It paralyzed talk; laugh loudly crunching, leaving traces, snow, opushavshy frost, exactly needles, end pronouns and turns into "I" in crystal, otlyvavshyy solid byryuzoy, but tayavshy after your tears. VI Was it really all that? and if so, of which excite Now these former things calm, remembering details, adjusting pine to pine, imitating - often successfully - the light in a dream? rise, who believe: in Angelov, to the roots (the forest); and that were in charge of Kellomyaki, except rail Schedule and iron objects, whistling arose from obscurity, five minutes later and dissolved the, gulp tin, the idea of love and had time to sit down? VII Nothing. Quicklime winter spaces, their food picking up from the deserted suburban platforms, I leave them under the weight of coniferous paw Currently, in a black coat, whose drape, stronger, than cheviot, He protected the there from the future and from past best, than smoky glass - buffet. Nothing is permanent, than black; so there are letters, or - the motif of "Carmen", so fall asleep clad opponents of change. VIII Longer the door does not unlock the key with intricate beard, and do not include the shoulder Electricity in the kitchen to the delight of cucumber. This skvoreshnya experienced starling, cumulus and cirrus herds. In terms of time, no "then": there is only "there". And there", straining eyes, memory wanders from room to room in the evening, like a thief, rummaging in the cupboards, crumble sex novel, running his hand in his pocket. IX In the middle of life, in a dense forest, human nature to look back - as a fugitive or criminal: the branch hrustnet, the jet splash. But the elapsed time does not and puma not hound, to jump on his back and, knocking sacrifice on earth, You stifle in their tender embrace: for - wrong side, Narcissus and disdain river covered with ice (a fish, thought its canning silver, X departures in advance). You could say, reluctantly a heart, just trying to protect themselves from large transformations, how so plotva; that every point in space is a point ·ëa· Normal and Express, ignoring the ·ëb· and ·ëc·, releases, stalling, in the end alphabet pairs of commas nostrils; that the water from the pool flows much faster, what is poured into the aforesaid through one or more pipes: submitting to the bottom. XI You can nod and acknowledge, that simple lesson Lobachevsky runners landscape did not go in store, Finland asleep, bated in the chest dislike of ski poles - now, go, aluminum: better, see, for hands. But it does not already know, the burning of bamboo, not imagine a palm tree, This is a fly, foxtrot, monologue parrot - or rather, the kind of parallels, where naked - as the edge light - walking, like a savage, Maclay. XII In small towns, stored in the cellars of belongings, like other people's photos, do not hold the cards - even playing - as if putting a limit Attempted fate of defenseless bodies. there are wallpapers; and settlement rid of them usually put outside so successfully, smoke strives ago Gateway to the pipe, not let the facade; what's left, merged into a single, white spot behind. XIII optionally remember, What was the name you, me; you enough blouses and me - belt, to be seen in the trellis (that is, submit a blind man), that our anonymity is just right, to face, as a result, in all living things, from the earth erases all silent "Fire" cells. Things have limits. Especially - their length, inability to budge. And our right to Here is not extended further, than on a clear day wedge falls in the shadow drifts XIV woodshed. Looking in another landscape, we assume, wedge that this island - our overall elbow, extended outward, which neither you, neither me do not bite, us, all the more, kiss. In this sense, we merged, although bed not even creak. For it is now the whole world, which also has a side door. But it is - just heard somewhere ringing - good only, To exit out. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM by EDGAR ALLAN POE THE BOATMAN by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI POEMS ON THE SLAVE TRADE: 6 by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE TRIUMPHS OF THY CONQUERING POWER by WILLIAM HILEY BATHURST LINES ON REVISITING THE COUNTRY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: SMALL PEOPLE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |
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