About a year has passed. I've returned to the place of the battle,
to its birds that have learned their unfolding of wings
from a subtle
lift of a surprised eyebrow, or perhaps from a razor blade
- wings, now the shade of early twilight, now of state
Now the place is abuzz with trading
in your ankles's remnants, bronzes
of sunburnt breastplates, dying laughter, bruises,
rumors of fresh reserves, memories of high treason,
laundered banners with imprints of the many
who since have risen.
All's overgrown with people. A ruin's a rather stubborn
architectural style. And the hearts's distinction
from a pitch-black cavern
isn't that great; not great enough to fear
that we may collide again like blind eggs somewhere.
At sunrise, when nobody stares at one's face, I often,
set out on foot to a monument cast in molten
lengthy bad dreams. And it says on the plinth "commander
in chief." But it reads "in grief," or "in brief,"
or "in going under."
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Elegy by Joseph Brodsky )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Bipolar Type 1, Michael McParland
- Borrowing from a dream, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Intense Videos, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Cherishing Small Things, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- As I love you, Ruma Chaudhuri
- Lonley Nights, Michael McParland
- I Cant Afford To..., Bieze Josephat
- Life's Bizarre Puzzle, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- War's Homecoming, Edgar Albert Guest
- Rome, Osip Emilevich Mandelstam