Speaking In Tongues
Guided by Voices

Joseph Brodsky

Imitating Nekrasov or Ivanovs Love Song

Translated by Boris Leyvi

Whenever by this very place I pass,
I stay a while and think back of my lass.
I down the straight two hundred from a glass.
This nuisance, river, at my tiptoes floats,
And in my mind I say to it: Float by.
The bridge Liteynyi and the freighting boats
I make out through a twinkle in my eye.
My bride fell in love with my friend, and at it
I nearly killed them, being on a brink.
The law is strict; though, to my only credit,
I kept it cool and frequented a drink.
I drank like fish, and if another minute
They kept me on the crew, I'd sear like coal.
When I see a phone booth, I go in it,
I go in it and sometimes make a call.
My friend picks up the phone. We do the chatting.
He says to me: How are ya, Ivanov!
How am I? I don't answer, and he, fretting,
Screams: Come and see the boys, don't vanish off!
I could have made them for her, but, for real,
He made them. Period. Dash. My turn to speak.
And I scream back: The next week, it's a deal!
But calendars do not have such a week.
This hand, in which I carry half a keg,
Grabbed on her bosom through the slender clothes.
On ottomans, in corners, on the rag.
The other night thats when I feel this was.
The limbs rip up my pants right on the stitches,
Upon the sofa wooly trenches leave.
And my throat wants to holler loudly: Bitches!
But god knows why it only says: Forgive.
Forgive? Whom? Why? When I hear screaming seagulls,
I get the violent shivers down my crotch.
She screams like that when comes. And then she giggles.
And then she cuddles and murmurs: No, dont touch.
I knew her like that and before our cuddle,
But life speeds on, not thinking of demise.
And I will get myself another bottle:
Its colors like the color of her eyes.



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