By Joseph A.Brodsky
The English Poetic Translations, by Anna Polibina-Polansky
(the Equity-Rhythmic Renditions)
***
You are the wind, my friend.
I am your woods, out sent
To you, in bows of leaves that are sipped
And eaten up by caterpillars os scripts.
The more furious is the Northern wind,
The whiter are the leaflets out winned.
The deity of wintry seasons does borrow
A lot, from their incessible sorrow.
So the frost is coming to-morrow.
1962/tr. 2020
***
What ...
By Joseph A. Brodsky
The English Poetic Renditions, by Anna A. Polibina-Polansky
*** ("Voskhodyaschee zhyoltoe solntse sledit kosymi...")
The ascending sun casts orange shades, followed by
The eyes aslant, the masts of the naked ticket.
So the Baptismal frost is ahead, and the wintry peak spies
For the Japanese war's waves, severe and wicked.
Oh, the round-Earth navigation ought to be ended up.
Bend your hand in the elbow.
Burn away the dreadnote, in the chimney-pl...
By Joseph Brodsky
The English Poetic Rendition, by Anna Polibina-Polansky
A Particle of Speech (the Beginning)
To Mom and Dad
The 24th of December, 1971 (to V.S.)
When it's Christmas, all folks are wizards.
At a store, coffee pies are demanded.
People delve into shops, like swift lizards.
The besiege of the shop is dismantled
From grey snow. And folks are like camels
And like kings, - busy, hustling and shameless.
Bags and packages, plastic and paper.
Scarfs...
By Joseph Brodsky
The English Poetic Translation, by Anna Polibina-Polansky
* * * ("Vecher. Razvaliny geometrii...")
An evening. Ruines of geometry.
A point left from an entire angle.
So the further, the more subjectless is are the contours.
So folks get naked, from shoulders to ankles.
So folks get stopped in getting nude and off speeled.
So the bushes hide away the rest.
So the seal of the sense is concealed,
It can be considered for the best.
So the else goes easily heale...
1. "I ya kogda-to zhil v gorode, gde na domah rosli..."
2. "Kolokola do sih por zvonyat v tom gorode, Teodora...'
3. "Tol'ko pepel znaet, chto znachit sgoret' dotla..."
By Joseph A. Brodsky
Three English Poetic Translations, by Anna A. Polibina-Polansky
* * * In Italy (1)
To Roberto and Fleur Calasso
I once lived at a city where statues hinted at lust.
I indulged to wisdom that bloomed at the aged dust.
And the embankment got short. Cariatide...
By Joseph Brodsky
The End of a Gorgeous Epoch
The English Poetic Translation, by Anna Polibina-Polansky
As the poetry still demands all to get verbalized,
I'm a sullen embassador bald, and I tell no lies,
Of the second-hand motherland, and I am tied up with this;
I will not, so, abuse my poor brain, tokens bright - to enlist.
And I search for my garments, I visit the ultimate store,
To buy my evening paper, it is a reductible score.
So the wind traces leaves. Dim are...
