Lyrics Иосиф Бродский - Квинтет

Quintet

           Mark Strand

        I

     The eyelid twitches. From mouth
     silence breaks out. European cities
     overtake each other at stations. Smell of soap
     gives out to the inhabitant of the jungle of the approaching enemy.
     Where your foot has set foot,
     there are white spots on the world map.

     Pershit is in his throat. A traveler asks for a drink.
     Children who need to be beaten,
     they open the air with a shrill cry. Eyelid
     twitching. As for the columns, because of
     they always appear someone. Even with his eyes closed,
     even in a dream you see a person.

     And accumulates like spittle in the chest:
     "Give me ink and paper, and go away
     away! "And the eyelid twitches.
     beyond the wall (as if praying) increase anguish.
     The monstrosity of what is happening in the brain
     gives the unfamiliar room familiar outlines.

        II

     Sometimes in the desert you hear a voice. You
     pull out the camera to capture features.
     But it's getting dark. Sit down, perekinysya joke
     with the speaker in the south, singing,
     monkey that jumped off the palm tree and, having not had time
     become a man, became a prostitute.

     It is better to sail by a ship swaying on a wave,
     participating in geography, in blue, and not
     only in history - this bush of land.
     It is better to cross Greenland, creaking
     skis, leaving after themselves
     icebergs and seals.

     The alphabet will not let you forget
     the purpose of your journey is the point "B".
     There the crow does not become a crow, no matter how hard it is;
     The bark of a mongrel can be heard, rye has muffled a weed;
     there, as on the skin of a beast the furrier,
     Officers of the General Staff are wielding a rusty map.

        III

     I've been looking at the fire for thirty-seven years.
     The eyelid twitches. Palm
     covered with sweat. The policeman, having taken the documents,
     goes into another room. Vzdvignutny in a hurry,
     obelisk ends up reluctantly in the clouds,
     as a blow to Euclid, as a trace of a comet.

     Night; having lived to gray hair, you have supper alone,
     himself cattle, himself a lord.
     Vobla lies across a large typed message
     about the volcanic eruption devil knows where,
     in other words, in an alien environment,
     leaning his tail in "The Last Prohibition".

     I understand only buzzing flies
     in the eastern bazaars! On the sidewalk in two
     steps from the hotel, fish caught in the network,
     the traveler catches the air with his mouth open:
     strong pain, killing this, on that
     continues to light.

        IV

     "Where is it?" - asks, smoothing the whirlwind,
     nephew. And, wandering through the folds of the mountains,
     "Here," says her niece. Squeak the swing
     in the old garden. On the table is a bouquet
     violets. The sun blinds the parquet.
     The cello passes from the living room.

     At night, over the plateau, hangs the moon.
     From the boulder the shadow of the elephant is separated.
     There is no self-interest in the silver of the stream.
     In a lonely room a sheet
     lumps white (swarthy) just nude -
     painting of an unknown brush.

     In the spring, in the mud, an ant-worker,
     there is a rook, creatures of other blood;
     foliage covers the trunk at the point of its bending.
     Autumn the hawk gives the circles
     over the village, counting the chickens. And on the shoulders of the servant
     dangles white sagging jacket ...

        V

     Was the word spoken? And if so, -
     in what language? Was there a boy? And how much ice
     You need to throw in a glass to stop the Titanic
     thoughts? Does the whole role of particles remember?
     What is capable of thinking at the sight of birds
     in the aquarium nerd?

     Now let us imagine an absolute emptiness.
     A place without time. The air itself. In that
     and in another, and in the third party. Just Mecca
     air. Oxygen, hydrogen. And in it
     finely twitching day after day