I wanted words about Ocean.
Here there will be many the most different words.
After all the Ocean, it won’t die in a fog,
It will not be dissolved in nacre of words.
Having seen time, you won’t die, as earlier,
Also you will not be born in a life miracle…
You will be the same sad harmonous boy,
Whose native land remains the Earth.
But the Ocean, it is stately and eternal
Without shocks, falseness and melancholy…
It isn’t similar to oozy small river,
And on a bucket of water from that river…
It power of centuries, множенных on eternity
(Where there comparison with a bucket),
Our Ocean громоздок also is careless.
It main (point). All around then.
And the most wonderful that is fair
Its cold glance from emptiness…
It never trades in revenge,
Doesn’t trample down someone’s sad dreams…
Want, God. Want, a terrible Demon.
And there can be not died Old man?
Our Ocean — the most complicated system
In the middle and round the Earth.
It is pleasant to me that I with it вообщем the namesake:
It is named by nobody. It is its nickname.
It is recognized, how that Brodsky,
Instead of the second, which that the double.
On it, everything, my friend about Ocean.
All here is uniform — truth and a deceit.
Alas, he has died in a morning fog
My overdue verse about Ocean…