Рождественский романс - стихи Иосифа Бродского.

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Flowing in longing inexplicable

Among the brick nadcada

Night boat Negasima

From the Alexandrovsky Garden,

Non-light boat unlike

On a rose yellow similar

Above your loved ones

At the feet passersby.

Flowing in longing inexplicable

Bee Choir Somnambul, drunks.

In the night capital photograph

Sadly made a foreigner,

And goes to the Ordyanka

Taxi with patients with saddles,

And the dead stand in an embrace

With mansions.

Flowing in longing inexplicable

Singer sad along the capital,

Stands at the kerosene shop

Unfortunate janitor Kruglitis

Rushing down the street is nondescript

Lover old and beautiful.

Full train newlyworn

Flowing in longing inexplicable.

Swim in the MGL Zamoskvoretsky,

Swimmer in misfortune random

Wandering reprimand Jewish

On the yellow staircase sad,

And from love to zhud

Under the New Year, Sunday,

Flowing beauty note,

Not explaining your longguing.

Flowing in the eyes of a cold evening,

Tremble snowflakes on the car,

Frosty wind, pale wind

Covers red palms

And pours honey lights evening,

And smells sweet halvoy;

Night Pie carries Christmas tree

Over your head.

Your new year on dark blue

Waves of the Sea of ​​the Urban

Flowing in longing inexplicable

As if life will begin again,

As if there are light and glory,

Good day and plenty of bread,

As if life swings to the right,

Swinging to the left.

1961

"I had an idea at one time when I was 24-25 years old, for every Christmas to write on the poem ..." I. Brodsky The cycle of Joseph Brodsky "Christmas poems" began from youthful interest in the Bible. In 1972, the poems were seven or eight. After expulsion from the country, a Christmas topic is practically spent from Brodsky's poetry, but since 1987 and until the end of life, he again writes every year one poem on the eve of Christmas. The latter was "escape to Egypt" (2), written in December 1995, a month before death.

Иосиф Бродский «Рождественские стихи»

Christmas romance Evgeny Raina, with love Flowing in longing inexplicable brick assaigant boat Negasimyiasis of the Alexandrovsky Garden, the night flashlight is noticeable, on a rose yellow, above his beloved, at the feet of passers-by Patients with saddles, and the dead are in the obnikus, the mansions. Flowing in the longing inexplication of sad in the capital, stands at the coaster kerosene print janitor, in a hurry, in the street, the old and beautiful. The final train has a newly demanding in longing inener Jewish's reprimand with a yellow staircase sad, and from the love before the new year, under Sunday, the beauty is floating, not explaining his longguing. Flowing in the eyes of a cold evening, trembling snowflakes on a car, frosty wind, pale winds, red palms, and pouring honey lights evening, and smells a sweet halvoy; Night pie carries Overall head of the head of the New Year on the dark blue wardriness of the sea Gorodelly in longing inexplicable, as if life starts again, as if there were light and glory, a good day and plenty of bread, as if life would swing to the right, swing to the left. December 28, 1961. * * * The Savior Born by Lituya Study. In the desert, the shepherd fires were burning. Bunded Beshev and pulled out the doughs of the poor kings who delivered the gifts. Carlisy gave birth to shaggy feet. Lovely wind rays. 1963 - 1964. * * * Christmas 1963. Magnies came. The baby was tightly sleeping. Disthus shone brightly from the sky. The cold wind snow into the snowdrift screamed. The sauna of the sand. The bonfire cracked at the entrance. They walked the candle. The fire has crochet. And the shadows became shorter, then suddenly longer. No one knew around that the life would start the bill from this night. Waving came. The baby was tightly slept. The crowns of Nurserie surrounded. Snow sweat. White couples were smoking. The little baby, and the gifts were lying. January, 1964. * * * In Christmas, everything is a bit of the magic ... In Christmas, everything is a bit of the magic. In the food sludge and the crush. The chatters of the coffee shops are holly produces a siege of privolutionary convulsions Naughty people: everyone himself king and camels. Sweets, bags, crashes, trees, hats, ties, knocked out. Both cods, tangerines, cinnamon and apples. Hoshos of persons, and not visible by plowing Bethlehem because of the snowy cereals. And the velocities modest darisy are jumping, breaking into the door, disappear in the dusts of the courtyards, even knowing that empty in the cave: nor animals, Neither a nursery nor the one with the Golden Lamb. But with the thoughts about the nevididi suddenly, as if the light is nothing! I would know Herod that than he is stronger, the more faithful, inevitable the miracle. The relativity of such kinship is a mining mechanism of Christmas. Some people celebrate everywhere that its approach, shifting the tables. Not the need for starpussia is still, but the will of the benefication of the people was visible from afar, and the shepherd fires were burned. Snow; Do not smoke, but roofing pipets. All persons like spots. And drinks. Baba is hiding guys. Who is coming - it is not clear to anyone: we do not know, and the hearts suddenly not recognize the foil. But when on the door drafts of the mob of the night dense the figure in a scarf, and the baby, and the Spirit of Sweet-host in itself without shame; look into the sky and See - Star. December 24, 1971.

Edward Burne-Jones (Edward Burne-Jones) - Christmas of Christ (Stained Glass)
Edward Burne-Jones (Edward Burne-Jones) - Christmas of Christ (Stained Glass)

Christmas star In the cold season, in the area, habitual speed to the heat than to the cold, to a flat surface more than to the mountain, the baby was born in the cave, so that the world will save; Melo, as soon as in the desert can winter revenge. And everything seemed to be huge: chest Mother, Yellow Paris Wola Nostrils, Magi - Baltazar, Gaspar, Melchior; Their gifts, secured here. It was just a point. And the point was a star. It is not blinking, without blinking, through rare clouds, on the child lying in the yawls, from afar, from the depths of the universe, from the other end, the star looked at the cave. And it was a father's look. December 24, 1987. * * * Flight in Egypt ... The prayer arose before the desert, selected by the Sky for a miracle, according to the principle of similarities, having happened to the night, they burned the bonfire. In a noticed snowmaster, it's not a prepirement role, the baby dreamed in the gold of the Oleolevolos, who acquired rapidly honeycomb - not only in the powers of the blacks, now, but indeed like a star, as long as the land exists: everywhere. December 25, 1988. * * * Imagine, hooking a match, that evening in a cave, use, to feel the cold, shouting the floor to feel hunger - dishes, and what's up to the desert, the desert everywhere. Propriet, chirking the match, that midnight in the cave, fire, the outlines of animals , Whether things, and - folds to mix the face with a towel -Mari, Joseph, a bundle with a baby. Improve the three kings, caravans moving the cave; Relieving, three rays of approximately a star, creak of the boots, Bartal Bartal (Baby Shovest is not earned by a bell with echoes in a thickening blue). Will, that the Lord in the human son's son will learn himself on gloomy lips: homeless in the homeless. 1989. * * * No matter what happened around, and it doesn't matter what Purga has rolled out there longly, that they were closely in a shepherd apartment that they were not in the world. The first, they were together. The second, and most importantly, it was that there were three, and everything that was happening, was born, durable, at least three shared. The sornery of the habit of the habit of greatly leaning over the universored star - and there was nowhere to fly from the child's view. The bonfire was lying, but it was clouded; everyone slept. The star from others was different than the candle, which seemed excess, the ability to mix with the neighbor. December 25, 1990. * * * Presepio (Nursery) Baby, Maria, Joseph, Tsari, Cattle, Camels, their guides, in sheepskin to fifth shepherd-giant - everything became a set of toys from clay. In the gripped sparkles, the bonfire is covered with sparkles. And you want to touch the foolence with your finger; Actually, to all positive - as a baby then in Bethlehem. It was all the largest in Bethlehem. But the clay is nice with a foil over your cotton swallowed here, to play the role of what is missing. Now you are huge than they are. Tyotaper with an inaccessible for them is a complete passers-by in the window of the Cosmos Conductor look at these figures. There are life to be reduced, as it is reduced in volume in volume, framework grow - as it happened with tooth. There are figurines with a snowy chore, and the smaller triggers the chest. And pulls to climb himself, or - step by another galaxy, in a deserted deserter shining - like sand in Palestine. December, 1991. * * * Lullaby I gave birth to you in the desert not in vain. When it was not in the tsar at me. He look for you in vain. In her winter stands more than the SPACE itself. It's some - toys, a ball, the house is high. Getting used to, son, to the deserted to fate. Where would you be, to live on it to you. I was breastfeeding you. And a look at the silent, it is full. The star, at a distance, in the neutral chela, the shine, know Vissenika, Son, to the desert. With the foot, rubbing her, the larch is different. In her, the fate is open to the campaign. In her, they will easily recognize the goruo cross. Do not know, to know the trails in it! Glitty deserted, son, to the wilderness. Pricky, son, to the desert like a shrinking wind, feeling that you are not right flesh. When you live with this mystery: feelings are heathed, know, in the endlessness. Don't lone, than this: only longer, and love for you - notes in her. Does the desert, cute , and to the star, breaking the light with such a filament everywhere, just burning the lamp, about Sovil Late Party, the one who is in the empty No less than us. December, 1992. * * * 25. XII.1993. What is needed for a miracle? Sheepskin casing, pinching today, Crupitsa yesterday, and to a handful of a piece of space and the sky tomorrow, a piece of champoles and the sky. And a miracle is happening. Wonders, to the ground, store the addresses, storing the addresses, seeking to the end that even a tenant is found in the wilderness. And if you leave the house - turns it on for a farewell in four candles, so that the world has covered it without affairs, for you, looking at all times . 1993. * * * Egypt (II) flight In the cave (what is neither there is, and the shelter! Reliable the amount of direct corners!) In the cave it was warm in the threesome; I smelled with straw and rag. Attachment was the bed. Sun of the Mollah Sand Misel. And, recalling his grinding, the brightness grumbled Moul and Vol. Maria prayed; The bonfire buzzed. Andosif, popping up into the fire. With "Oh-go," Herod, having merged troops; and closer to one - century. Selfly they were the threesome. They rushed into the doorway, so as not to disturb them. Only a mulo dream (or ox) sighed heavily. He looked through the threshold. The first among them, who could know that her gaze meant was a babe; But he was silent. Joseph Brodsky "Christmas poems"

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