Persian arrow - Brodsky

Veronika SILC

The shaft of your decayed, decayed body,
in which you did not get it in time.
you rusted, but still flew
before me, pupil of Zeno.

clocks ticking. But, put a book,
as a liquid in a sealed container,
they still, and you mobile,
being indifferent to their second.

Did you know, what do you separation
It is a bowstring, that her return
not destined, when you are a bow
He flew to the other side of the Euphrates?

Even resting in the warm handfuls of frosty
noon, under the shelter of a stranger,
similar green with bronze
a laurel leaf broth survivors,

You are moving rapidly. For you
can not keep up in the desert, even more so - in a thicket
present. For any heat,
palm - the more, prehodyashte.

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Boris Pasternak
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