Dutch Mistress – Joseph Brodsky

A hotel in whose ledgers departures are more prominent than arrivals. With wet Koh-i-noors the October rain strokes what’s left of the …

Elegy – Joseph Brodsky

It’s not that the Muse feels like clamming up, it’s more like high time for the lad’s last nap. And the scarf-waving …

Folk Tune – Joseph Brodsky

It’s not that the Muse feels like clamming up, it’s more like high time for the lad’s last nap. And the scarf-waving …

Galatea Encore – Joseph Brodsky

As though the mercury’s under its tongue, it won’t talk. As though with the mercury in its sphincter, immobile, by a leaf-coated …

Seaward – Joseph Brodsky

Darling, you think it’s love, it’s just a midnight journey. Best are the dales and rivers removed by force, as from the …

Stone Villages – Joseph Brodsky

The stone-built villages of England. A cathedral bottled in a pub window. Cows dispersed across fields. Monuments to kings. A man in …

To Urania – Joseph Brodsky

Everything has its limit, including sorrow. A windowpane stalls a stare. Nor does a grill abandon a leaf. One may rattle the …

Turnfallet – Joseph Brodsky

There is a meadow in Sweden where I lie smitten, eyes stained with clouds’ white ins and outs. And about that meadow …