Gloomy reflections on the bitterness of parting and how time and fate change a person, his attitude to the world, to the past and to his beloved in the poem "That is not the Muse of Water Gains in His Mouth": We part with you forever, friend.

During his lifetime, Joseph Brodsky rarely managed to read an impartial word about his work - fate threw too bright a reflection on his texts. In "samizdat", in emigrant publications, and with the beginning of "perestroika", several very interesting articles appeared in Russia, but understanding Brodsky's work as a whole is a matter of the future ... and a very complicated matter. His ironic, through and through contradictory poetry does not fit into any concept.

In his mature years, Brodsky did not like talking about his work. And in general about literature. In his system of values, life is more important than literature. At the same time, he saw nothing in life, "except despair, neurasthenia and fear of death." Except for suffering and compassion.
But Brodsky's poems argue with the author: there is, there is something besides despair and neurasthenia ...
Even the darkest and coldest of Brodsky's texts are very comforting. He speaks of loneliness, despair and hopelessness with such fervor that none of his contemporaries achieved in verses about happy love and fraternal union with people.

"It is not the Muse that is taking water into her mouth ..."

It is not the Muse that is taking water into her mouth.
That must take a good boy's deep sleep.
And waved after the blue handkerchief
runs into the chest with a steam roller.

And do not stand up neither with cancer, nor with words,
like back to the aspen system to firewood.
And the eyes on the pillowcase face
spreads like an egg in a frying pan.

Are you hot under the cloth of six
blankets in the garden where - Lord forgive me -
like a fish - air, with a damp lip
I grabbed what was then you?

I would sew bunny ears to my face
used to swallow lead in the woods for you,
but also in a black pond of bad snags
I would have surfaced in front of you, as "Varyag" could not.

But, apparently, not destiny, and the years are not the same.
And already the gray hair is ashamed to say - where.
More long veins than bloods for them,
and the thoughts of dead bushes are crooked.

We part with you forever, my friend.
Draw a simple circle on paper.
It will be me: nothing inside.
Look at it - and then erase it.

Brodsky Joseph Alexandrovich (May 24, 1940, Leningrad - January 28, 1996, New York), Russian poet, prose writer, essayist, translator, author of plays; wrote also on English language... In 1972 he emigrated to the United States. In verse (collections "Stop in the Desert", 1967, "End of a Beautiful Epoch", "Part of Speech", both 1972, "Urania", 1987) comprehension of the world as a single metaphysical and cultural whole. Distinctive features of the style are rigidity and hidden pathos, irony and breakdown (early Brodsky), meditativeness, realized through an appeal to complicated associative images, cultural reminiscences (sometimes leading to the hermeticity of poetic space). Essays, stories, plays, translations. Nobel Prize (1987), Knight of the Legion of Honor (1987), winner of the Oxford Honori Causa Prize.
http://ru.wikipedia.org

"It is not the Muse that is taking water into her mouth ..." Joseph Brodsky

It is not the Muse that is taking water into her mouth.
That must take a good boy's deep sleep.
And waved after the blue handkerchief
runs into the chest with a steam roller.

And do not stand up neither with cancer, nor with words,
like back to the aspen system to firewood.
And the eyes on the pillowcase face
spreads like an egg in a frying pan.

Are you hot under the cloth of six
blankets in the garden where - Lord forgive me -
like a fish - air, with a damp lip
I grabbed what was then you?

I would sew bunny ears to my face
used to swallow lead in the woods for you,
but also in a black pond of bad snags
I would have surfaced before you, as the Varyag could not.

But, apparently, not destiny, and the years are not the same.
And already gray hair is ashamed to say - where.
More long veins than bloods for them,
and the thoughts of dead bushes are crooked.

We part with you forever, my friend.
Draw a simple circle on paper.
It will be me: nothing inside.
Look at it - and then erase it.

Analysis of Brodsky's poem "It is not the Muse that is taking water into her mouth ..."

Each poet has his own muse, and Joseph Brodsky is no exception in this respect. For many years he loved Marianna Basmanova, a St. Petersburg artist whom he met back in 1962. Fate decreed that this couple, to whom friends predicted a brilliant future, broke up. Moreover, through the fault of Marianne, who preferred Brodsky to another.

Having found himself in forced emigration, the poet continued to maintain relations with his beloved and dedicated to her a huge cycle of lyric poems marked with the initials "MB,". However, at some point Brodsky realized that he was unlikely to see the one with whom he dreamed of meeting deep old age. It was then, in 1980, that the poem “It’s not a muse that is taking water into her mouth” was born, in which the author mentally says goodbye to his youthful love.

However, this parting happened much earlier, but the poet still indulged himself with illusions and hoped for the best. He did not dare to admit to himself that he was in the life of Marianna Basmanova, albeit bright, but still an episode. Even despite the fact that in 1967 the couple had a son, Andrei, whom Brodsky dreamed of taking to his place in the United States. However, until a certain time, he counted on the fact that Marianne would be with him. But when this illusion crumbled to dust, he, with some irony and even mockery, asked his beloved in a poem: "Are you hot under the cloth of six blankets in that cage?"

The poet admits that he was once ready to sacrifice everything for the one he loved. “I would sew hare ears to my face, swallow lead in the woods for you,” writes Brodsky, realizing that this poem will be one of the last in a cycle dedicated to this woman. Therefore, lying to her and to yourself, being thousands of kilometers from each other, is simply pointless. It is for this reason that the poet speaks quite directly and frankly about what once connected him with Marianna Basmanova, and notes that these times are in the distant past. “But, you see, it’s not fate, and the years are not the same. And it’s already a shame to say where, ”the author emphasizes. He also admits that his beloved has already ceased to be a muse for him. And this is not surprising, because the pain and hope, which fought for so long in the poet's soul, eventually gave way to disappointment and apathy.

Brodsky also realizes that for Marianna Basmanova, he has actually ceased to exist. Therefore, he asks to perceive it as a circle, inside which there is emptiness. “Look at him - and then erase”, the poet advises, saying goodbye to the one he once loved.

It will be me: nothing inside.

I've always said that fate is a game.
Why do we need fish, since there is caviar.
That the gothic style will win like a school
as the ability to stick around without being pricked.
I am sitting by the window. Outside the window is an aspen.
I loved a few. However, it is strong.

I kept saying that the wood is only part of the log.
What is the use of the whole maiden, if there is a knee.
That, tired of the dust raised by the century,
the Russian eye will rest on the Estonian spire.
I am sitting by the window. I washed the dishes.
I was happy here, and I won't be.

I wrote that in the light bulb there is the horror of the floor.
That love, as an act, is devoid of a verb.
What Euclid did not know, that going to the cone,
the thing acquires not zero, but Chronos.
I am sitting by the window. I remember my youth.
Sometimes I will smile, sometimes I will spit.

My song was devoid of motive
but you can't sing it in chorus. No wonder
what is my reward for such speeches
no one puts their feet on their shoulders.
I am sitting by the window; outside the window like a fast
the sea thunders behind the undulating curtain.

Citizen of the second-rate era, proudly
I recognize as second-class goods
your best thoughts, and the days to come
I give them as an experience of dealing with asphyxiation.
I sit in the dark. And she's no worse
in the room than the darkness outside.

We part with you forever, my friend.
Draw a simple circle on paper.
It will be me: nothing inside.
Look at it - and then erase it.
Other lyrics "I. Brodsky"

Other names for this text

• Joseph Brodsky - Forever parting with you, friend (read by Sergey Trukhanov))
• S. Trukhanov (Brodsky) - Forever parting with you, friend
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you ... (Art. I. Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you, friend ... (verses - I. Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov (I. Brodsky) - Forever we part with you friend ...
• I. Brodsky - draw a simple circle on paper
• Sergei Trukhanov - That is not the muse of water picking up in his mouth ... (Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov (poems by I. Brodsky) - Forever parting with you, friend ...
• Joseph Brotsky - draw a simple circle on paper ...
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you, friend ... (Joseph Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov - I am sitting at the window (I. Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov - ... I loved a few. However - strongly ........
• 866. Sergei Trukhanov - I'm sitting by the window
• Sergey Trukhanov (I. Brodsky) - circle
• Sergey Trukhanov - I have always said that fate is a game.
• Brotsky - we are parting with you forever, friend, draw a simple circle on paper, it will be nothing inside, look at him, and then erase ...
• Sergey Trukhanov (verses by I. Brodsky) - Forever parting with you friend .... mp3
• Joseph Brodsky - Draw a simple circle on paper
• ending-I. Brodsky-Vanguard - Box
• - I did not love many, however - strongly
• KEWPROD - draw a simple circle on paper
• Joseph Brodsky (poetry) - Draw a simple circle on paper.
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you, friend
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you, friend (Joseph Brodsky)
• Joseph Brodsky - I am sitting by the window
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever Parting (On verses by I.A. Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you, my friend / on the verses of I. Brodsky /
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you ... (I. Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov (I. Brodsky) - Forever parting with you, friend
• Sergey Trukhanov (verses - I. Brodsky) - Forever parting with you, friend ...

It will be me: nothing inside.

I've always said that fate is a game.
Why do we need fish, since there is caviar.
That the gothic style will win like a school
as the ability to stick around without being pricked.
I am sitting by the window. Outside the window is an aspen.
I loved a few. However, it is strong.

I kept saying that the wood is only part of the log.
What is the use of the whole maiden, if there is a knee.
That, tired of the dust raised by the century,
the Russian eye will rest on the Estonian spire.
I am sitting by the window. I washed the dishes.
I was happy here, and I won't be.

I wrote that in the light bulb there is the horror of the floor.
That love, as an act, is devoid of a verb.
What Euclid did not know, that going to the cone,
the thing acquires not zero, but Chronos.
I am sitting by the window. I remember my youth.
Sometimes I will smile, sometimes I will spit.

My song was devoid of motive
but you can't sing it in chorus. No wonder
what is my reward for such speeches
no one puts their feet on their shoulders.
I am sitting by the window; outside the window like a fast
the sea thunders behind the undulating curtain.

Citizen of the second-rate era, proudly
I recognize as second-class goods
your best thoughts, and the days to come
I give them as an experience of dealing with asphyxiation.
I sit in the dark. And she's no worse
in the room than the darkness outside.

We part with you forever, my friend.
Draw a simple circle on paper.
It will be me: nothing inside.
Look at it - and then erase it.
Other lyrics "I. Brodsky"

Other names for this text

• Joseph Brodsky - Forever parting with you, friend (read by Sergey Trukhanov))
• S. Trukhanov (Brodsky) - Forever parting with you, friend
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you ... (Art. I. Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you, friend ... (verses - I. Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov (I. Brodsky) - Forever we part with you friend ...
• I. Brodsky - draw a simple circle on paper
• Sergei Trukhanov - That is not the muse of water picking up in his mouth ... (Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov (poems by I. Brodsky) - Forever parting with you, friend ...
• Joseph Brotsky - draw a simple circle on paper ...
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you, friend ... (Joseph Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov - I am sitting at the window (I. Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov - ... I loved a few. However - strongly ........
• 866. Sergei Trukhanov - I'm sitting by the window
• Sergey Trukhanov (I. Brodsky) - circle
• Sergey Trukhanov - I have always said that fate is a game.
• Brotsky - we are parting with you forever, friend, draw a simple circle on paper, it will be nothing inside, look at him, and then erase ...
• Sergey Trukhanov (verses by I. Brodsky) - Forever parting with you friend .... mp3
• Joseph Brodsky - Draw a simple circle on paper
• ending-I. Brodsky-Vanguard - Box
• - I did not love many, however - strongly
• KEWPROD - draw a simple circle on paper
• Joseph Brodsky (poetry) - Draw a simple circle on paper.
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you, friend
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you, friend (Joseph Brodsky)
• Joseph Brodsky - I am sitting by the window
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever Parting (On verses by I.A. Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you, my friend / on the verses of I. Brodsky /
• Sergey Trukhanov - Forever parting with you ... (I. Brodsky)
• Sergey Trukhanov (I. Brodsky) - Forever parting with you, friend
• Sergey Trukhanov (verses - I. Brodsky) - Forever parting with you, friend ...

During his lifetime, Joseph Brodsky rarely managed to read an impartial word about his work - fate threw too bright a reflection on his texts. In "samizdat", in emigrant publications, and with the beginning of "perestroika", several very interesting articles appeared in Russia, but understanding Brodsky's work as a whole is a matter of the future ... and a very complicated matter. His ironic, through and through contradictory poetry does not fit into any concept.

In his mature years, Brodsky did not like talking about his work. And in general about literature. In his system of values, life is more important than literature. At the same time, he saw nothing in life, "except despair, neurasthenia and fear of death." Except for suffering and compassion.

But Brodsky's poems argue with the author: there is, there is something besides despair and neurasthenia ...
Even the darkest and coldest of Brodsky's texts are very comforting. He speaks of loneliness, despair and hopelessness with such fervor that none of his contemporaries achieved in verses about happy love and fraternal union with people.

« It is not the Muse who is taking water into his mouth ... "Joseph Brodsky

M. B.

It is not the Muse that is taking water into her mouth.
That must be the good man's deep sleep.
And waved after the blue handkerchief
runs into the chest with a steam roller.

And do not stand up neither with cancer, nor with words,
like back to the aspen system to firewood.
And the eyes on the pillowcase face
spreads like an egg in a frying pan.

Are you hot under the cloth of six
blankets in the garden where - Lord forgive me -
like a fish - air, with a damp lip
I grabbed what was then you?

I would sew bunny ears to my face
used to swallow lead in the woods for you,
but also in a black pond of bad snags
I would have surfaced in front of you, as the Varyag could not.

But, apparently, not destiny, and the years are not the same.
And already the gray hair is ashamed to say - where.
More long veins than bloods for them,
and the thoughts of dead bushes are crooked.

We part with you forever, my friend.
Draw a simple circle on paper.
It will be me: nothing inside.
Look at it - and then erase it.

Each poet has his own muse, and Joseph Brodsky is no exception in this respect. For many years he loved Marianna Basmanova, a St. Petersburg artist whom he met back in 1962. Fate decreed that this couple, to whom friends predicted a brilliant future, broke up. Moreover, through the fault of Marianne, who preferred Brodsky to another.

Having found himself in forced emigration, the poet continued to maintain relations with his beloved and dedicated to her a huge cycle of lyric poems marked with the initials "MB,". However, at some point Brodsky realized that he was unlikely to see the one with whom he dreamed of meeting deep old age. It was then, in 1980, that the poem “It’s not a muse that is taking water into her mouth” was born, in which the author mentally says goodbye to his youthful love.

However, this parting happened much earlier, but the poet still indulged himself with illusions and hoped for the best. He did not dare to admit to himself that he was in the life of Marianna Basmanova, albeit bright, but still an episode. Even despite the fact that in 1967 the couple had a son, Andrei, whom Brodsky dreamed of taking to his place in the United States. However, until a certain time, he counted on the fact that Marianne would be with him. But when this illusion crumbled to dust, he, with some irony and even mockery, asked his beloved in a poem: "Are you hot under the cloth of six blankets in that cage?"

The poet admits that he was once ready to sacrifice everything for the one he loved. “I would sew hare ears to my face, swallow lead in the woods for you,” writes Brodsky, realizing that this poem will be one of the last in a cycle dedicated to this woman. Therefore, lying to her and to yourself, being thousands of kilometers from each other, is simply pointless. It is for this reason that the poet speaks quite directly and frankly about what once connected him with Marianna Basmanova, and notes that these times are in the distant past. “But, you see, it’s not fate, and the years are not the same. And it’s already a shame to say where, ”the author emphasizes. He also admits that his beloved has already ceased to be a muse for him. And this is not surprising, because the pain and hope, which fought for so long in the poet's soul, eventually gave way to disappointment and apathy.

Brodsky also realizes that for Marianna Basmanova, he has actually ceased to exist. Therefore, he asks to perceive it as a circle, inside which there is emptiness. “Look at him - and then erase”, the poet advises, saying goodbye to the one he once loved.