Give me another life, and I'll be singing
in Caffè Rafaella. Or simply sitting
there. Or standing there, as furniture in the corner,
in case that life is a bit less generous than the former.
Yet partly because no century from now on will ever manage
without caffeine or jazz. I'll sustain this damage,
and through my cracks and pores, varnish and dust all over,
observe you, in twenty years, in your full flower.
On the whole, bear in mind that I'll be around. Or rather,
that an inanimate object might be your father,
especially if the objects are older than you, or larger.
So keep an eye on them always, for they no doubt will judge you.
Love those things anyway, encounter or no encounter.
Besides, you may still remember a silhouette, a contour,
while I'll lose even that, along with the other luggage.
Hence, these somewhat wooden lines in our common language.
Joseph Brodsky (1940 - 1996) Russia
Sorry, but it's a little incorrect to write Brodsky - Russia. Because it was the USSR. And Brodsky was kicked out of the country.
ReplyDeleteYes, Brodsky was born in Leningrad, but died in New York. He is buried in Venice.
Note that where a poet is from a former time, I have put their country of origin in modern terms, even though the country may not have been named the same in their time.
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