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I’m not a son or a grandson. I’ll say
Politely: I have not memories’ ton!
Only my soul is sad night and day
That our beloved poet is gone!

In New York he left at the dawn of years—
In January it was snowing hard.
I read his books of poetry and prose
From cover to cover for the mind.

I know even his number of phone
And his home address for writing.
But I’m afraid very much of bad form,
There’ll be no one letters reading.

His memory’ll be memorized, I believe,
So that the text in bronze runs
On home: “Never be sad, people, time treats grief,
Joseph Brodsky lived here, this memorize!”


Я не сын, не внук. Скажу учтиво:
У меня воспоминаний нет!
Только где-то на душе тоскливо,
Что ушёл любимый наш поэт!
На рассвете лет ушёл в Нью-Йорке -
Снег тогда январский сильно мёл.
Книги все его от корки к корке
Я стихов и прозы перечёл.
Знаю даже номер телефона,
Адрес дома – чтобы написать.
Но боюсь я очень моветона –
Будет письма некому читать.
Память – верю я – увековечат.
В бронзе текст на доме чтоб гласил:
«Не грустите, люди! Время лечит!
Здесь Иосиф Бродский раньше жил!»

Translator - I. Toporov
Vi una columna de luz
Más brillante que el sol
Directamente arriba de mi cabeza

Y esta luz gradualmente
Descendió hasta descansar
Sobre mí.

Al reposar sobre mí la luz
Vi en el aire arriba de mí
A dos personajes

Cuyo fulgor y gloria
No admiten

Uno de ellos me habló
Llamándome por mi nombre
Y dijo, señalando al otro:

Éste es mi Hijo

"I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me….

When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air.

One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!"

- Joseph Smith, The Prophet
The third and most poetic
Of his first vision
Ceyhun Mahi Aug 2019
Ripped shirt,
but I am still
running with all my might
through this house who's doors are all locked,
to Light.
A reference to the story of the Prophet Yusuf/Joseph.
Steve Page Dec 2018
I tell ya.
are not as much of a flight risk
as you first may think.
The cherubim however
are flighty
and way more likely to fly off
at the baby's first cry
Like they've got somewhere else to be.
Just try. You'll see.
Not even a bye-bye.

But angels, oh man.
Angels -
I'm a fan.

You can set your Sat Nav
on an Angel.
Dreamtime or lunchtime,
they'll be your guide.
- Sublime.

Me and Mary
were fans.

- Jesus!
Put those nails down.
If your mum catches you with those, she'll go spare.
Joseph got used to Angel visitations.
It was
the green
grass there
between dipoles
holes when
bare organic
meat the
harvest begun
their true
rein again
with a
notorious cut
of beef
ribeyes but
ranches nearby
her Swanee
River oak
a ****** in sequence
Maria Etre Aug 2018
There i(s)
a certa(i)n
place for you
in my heart
bro(t)herly lov(e)
that you keep
"If I Could Give You My Eyes" Series
Farzaneh Qaf Jul 2018
I'm not Joseph
no "no" to temptations
thy greatness, O' He
grant me a vision
to interpret
day dreams
may I know
how to sacrifice
for her kisses
on my forehead,
as Potiphar
meets despair
with his
dire wife
but highlight
in this
lustful affair
when her
dream died
and not
well in
court while
her accusations
finish rife
and Joseph's
crown wins
the right
Joseph inhales Egypt
ShowYouLove Apr 2018
Mary holds the lifeless body
As tears flow from her eyes
Does she also know that
Soon her son must rise?
Mary holds her baby's hand
So little and so frail
Does she also understand
That they would be pierced by a nail?
Mary holds her son close to her chest
When they find him teaching
Does she feel so blessed that
Even to death He is reaching?
Mary holds her son to wish him a good day
As he works with Joseph at his trade
Mary holds our hand as we walk the way
God says: see the work my hands have made!
this was inspired by looking at a statue of Mary holding Jesus' lifeless body in her arms during one Adoration. Written during a "40 Hours Devotion" started by St. John Neumann when he came to America.
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