Joseph Brodsky Poems
|1.||A List Of Some Observation...||1/1/2004|
|2.||A Polar Explorer||1/1/2004|
|6.||Daedalus In Sicily||4/19/2010|
|10.||From A School Anthology||4/19/2010|
|12.||I Sit By The Window||1/13/2003|
|13.||I Threw My Arms About Those Shoulders||1/1/2004|
|14.||Letter To An Archaeologist||1/1/2004|
|15.||Letters To The Roman Friend||4/19/2010|
|18.||May 24, 1980||1/1/2004|
|20.||Odysseus To Telemachus||1/20/2003|
|21.||On The 100th Anniversary Of Anna Akhmatova||4/19/2010|
|22.||Part Of Speech||1/13/2003|
I Sit By The Window
I said fate plays a game without a score,
and who needs fish if you've got caviar?
The triumph of the Gothic style would come to pass
and turn you on--no need for coke, or grass.
I sit by the window. Outside, an aspen.
When I loved, I loved deeply. It wasn't often.
I said the forest's only part of a tree.
Who needs the whole girl if you've got her knee?
Sick of the dust raised by the modern era,
the Russian eye would rest on an Estonian spire.
I sit by the window. The dishes are done.
I was happy here. But I won't be again.
I wrote: The bulb looks at...
Everything has its limit, including sorrow.
A windowpane stalls a stare. Nor does a grill abandon
a leaf. One may rattle the keys, gurgle down a swallow.
Loneliness cubes a man at random.
A camel sniffs at the rail with a resentful nostril;
a perspective cuts emptiness deep and even.
And what is space anyway if not the
body's absence at every given
point? That's why Urania's older than sister Clio!