Letters to the wall – Joseph Brodsky


Save my shadow. I can not explain. I'm sorry.
It is needed now. Save my shadow, save.
Behind your back the running around is silent in the bushes.
It's time for me to leave. You will stay after me.
Goodbye, wall. I went. Let the bushes dream.
Along the sleeping hospitals. Illuminated by the moon. Like you.
I will try to keep this evening in my chest forever.
Не сердись на меня. Gotta have something behind.

Save my shadow. This inscription does not need to be erased.
Anyway, I'll never come here to die,
Anyway, you will never ask me: vernis.
If someone hugs you, dear wall, smile.
Man is a ball, and the soul is a thread, say.
In fact, an unknown baby is looking at you.
Let go - you say - rise above the green foliage.
You look at me, as I fall headlong.

Discord and longing, darkness and tears in the eyes,
an abundance of minutes away on hospital hours.
The tug is sailing. Emptiness behind him.
Golden moon high above the brick prison.
Dedicating freedom to loneliness near the wall.
I bequeath to the wall the knock of steps in the middle of silence.
Turning to the wall, breathing hard in the dark:
I bequeath to you to curb the baby forever.

I don't want to die. I can't stand the death of my mind.
Don't scare the baby. I'm afraid to sink into darkness.
I do not want to leave, I don't want to die, I'm a fool,
не хочу, I don’t want to plunge into darkness.
Only live, just live, propping up your cold shoulder.
Neither myself, no other, neither love, anyone, nothing to do with.
Only live, just live and don't give a damn, forget.
I don't want to die. I can't kill myself.

So shout out to me. Craftswoman screaming and scolding.
So shout out to me. It's so easy to scare a kid.
So shout out to me. I’m not going to scream myself:
Hey, kid! - and immediately fly through empty spaces.
You're right: need to have something behind your back.
Good, that now remain in the darkness behind me
not a mute agent with a pigeon cloak on his shoulder,
not soul or flesh - just a shadow on your brick.

Isolator of longing - or just moving forward.
Overseer of love - or just my Russian people.
Good, that there was one, which can make you related too.
Good, that you always don't care, who should you execute.
There is a prison behind you. And behind me is just a shadow on you.
Good, that a bright yellow dawn creeps along the pipe.
Good, that the night is ending. The day is coming.
Save my shadow.

January February 1964

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Alexander Blok