Joseph Brodsky

(24 May 1940 – 28 January 1996 / Leningrad)

Joseph Brodsky Poems

1. 1 January 1965 12/11/2015
2. TÖRnfallet 1/20/2003
3. Tsushima Screen 1/1/2004
4. On The 100th Anniversary Of Anna Akhmatova 4/19/2010
5. Galatea Encore 1/1/2004
6. Bosnia Tune 4/19/2010
7. From A School Anthology 4/19/2010
8. Daedalus In Sicily 4/19/2010
9. Tornfallet 1/1/2004
10. Love 4/19/2010
11. Dutch Mistress 1/1/2004
12. Stone Villages 1/1/2004
13. Seven Strophes 1/1/2004
14. Folk Tune 1/1/2004
15. Moscow Carol 4/19/2010
16. I Threw My Arms About Those Shoulders 1/1/2004
17. To Urania 1/20/2003
18. Letter To An Archaeologist 1/1/2004
19. May 24, 1980 1/1/2004
20. Love 4/19/2010
21. A Polar Explorer 1/1/2004
22. Elegy 1/1/2004
23. Part Of Speech 1/13/2003
24. A List Of Some Observation... 1/1/2004
25. Letters To The Roman Friend 4/19/2010
26. Seaward 1/1/2004
27. Belfast Tune 1/1/2004
28. Odysseus To Telemachus 1/20/2003
29. A Song 1/20/2003
30. I Sit By The Window 1/13/2003

Comments about Joseph Brodsky

  • Liza Sudina Liza Sudina (9/12/2015 12:55:00 PM)

    GENIUS! My favorite poet! ! !

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Jay Warier (7/25/2009 6:29:00 AM)

    What a beautiful poem 'A Song' is!

  • Jay Warier (7/25/2009 6:29:00 AM)

    What a beautiful poem 'A Song' is!

Best Poem of Joseph Brodsky

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...

Read the full of I Sit By The Window

TÖRnfallet

There is a meadow in Sweden
where I lie smitten,
eyes stained with clouds'
white ins and outs.

And about that meadow
roams my widow
plaiting a clover
wreath for her lover.

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