"On a cloud I saw a
child,
and he laughing said to
me..."
W. Blake
1
We
want to be playing tag on the green,
wearing
just shirtsleeves, tidy and clean.
If
the weather is rainy rather than dry,
while doing the homework we want not to
cry.
We
shall finish the textbook with exemplary zeal.
That
of which we shall dream will always be real.
We
shall love everybody, and they will love us,
It's as good as it gets, like a plus and
a minus.
We
shall marry maidens with eyes full of soul.
And
if we are maidens ourselves, then tall
youths
we shall take to be our spouses,
and love will reign in all our houses.
Because
there's a smile on the face of the doll,
laughing,
we'll stumble and take our fall.
And
then the wise elders, long out of the strife,
will pronounce gravely that such is
life.
2
Our
thoughts will be longer with each passing year.
With
iodine we'll banish all illness and fear.
Our
curtained windows, ajar for the season,
will not have the black bars of a
prison.
We'll
be home from a pleasant job quite early.
At
the movies we'll sit and blink but rarely.
Heavy
brooches to dresses we'll pin with a thrill.
If you're out of money, we'll foot the
bill.
We
shall build a ship, made out of steel,
with
a steam turbine, with a bar and a grill.
We'll
embark upon it, having gotten a visa,
and shall see the Acropolis and the Mona
Lisa.
As
the number of continents (five, no more)
times
the number of seasons, of which there are four,
having
topped up the tank without fail,
twenty places we'll get where we can
sail.
3
Nightingales
will sing for us in the green.
We
shall not be thinking of the death unseen
more
often than a bird draws a scarecrow's attention.
Having sinned, we'll come forth and ask
for detention.
Old
age we shall meet in a comfy armchair,
grandchildren
around us, merry and fair.
And
if there are none, then with the neighbors
over drinks we'll enjoy the fruits of
our labors.
As
the books, our friends and the epoch all tell us,
there
is no way tomorrow can be any worse
than
yesterday, which word, rather nutty,
should in tempi be always written
passati.
Because
the soul in the body is mired,
life
will be better than we desired.
Into
the dough pure lard we'll fold.
That way it's tastier: so we were told.
Joseph
Brodsky — A Song of Innocence, Also of Experience
Part
II
"Hear the voice of the
Bard!"
W. Blake
1
We
never hold forth until someone winces.
We'll
never decide to elope with a princess.
We'll
accept a martini only if dry,
too ashamed to laugh and too
bored to cry.
We'll
never risk mésalliance in a marriage.
We
don't ride a gray wolf ahead of the carriage,
and
it won't turn out, when the moon is full,
to be an enchanted prince or a
ghoul.
Having
known temptation, we tempt not our brothers.
We
don't love our likes, and dislike those others
who
encroach on our personal space.
We detest the times, but more
often -- the place.
As
the north and the south are far apart,
Our
thoughts form a tangle, never to part.
When
the sun goes down we switch on the light,
Rounding up the evening with a
turkish delight.
2
We
don't see our crops rising up from the soil.
The
judge we despise, from defenders recoil.
We
value softball much higher than playoffs,
Give us a burger, and hold the
mayo.
A
star in our eye is a tear in the pillow,
We
fear the crown on a frog under willow,
warts
on our fingers, all disappointment.
Give us a tube of some goodly
ointment.
We
are pleased with stupidity more than with cunning.
We
don't know why the flowers appear in the spring.
And
when Boreas returns to rewind the clock,
we feel nothing at all, except a
shock.
Because
the heat dissipates into cold,
our
shirt is torn, but the jacket is bold.
Our
judgment is fine, but the eyes are too weak
to tell a duck's bill from an
eagle's beak.
3
We
fear death, and the torments ahead.
Alive,
we know what it is that we dread:
Void
is likelier and worse than Inferno
We know not to whom we should say
"hell, no".
Our
lives, like excuses, exhausted a quota.
We
shall never appear in a dream to a daughter
Or
lean over to kiss a son in his bed.
Our shadow is longer than the
night ahead.
That's
no solemn assembly convened by the bell!
The
dark that awaits us we cannot dispel.
We
roll down the flag and retreat to the keg.
Let us have a last drink and a
draw on the fag.
Why
did this come to pass? It's a lie
to
blame personality or Fate from on high.
Should
it have ever been otherwise?
We footed the bill, never mind
the price.
Joseph
Brodsky, 1972
