I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, <br />carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, <br />lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis, <br />dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles. <br />From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly <br />width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives rake my nitty-gritty. <br />Quit the country the bore and nursed me. <br />Those who forgot me would make a city. <br />I have waded the steppes that saw yelling Huns in saddles, <br />worn the clothes nowadays back in fashion in every quarter, <br />planted rye, tarred the roofs of pigsties and stables, <br />guzzled everything save dry water. <br />I've admitted the sentries' third eye into my wet and foul <br />dreams. Munched the bread of exile; it's stale and warty. <br />Granted my lungs all sounds except the howl; <br />switched to a whisper. Now I am forty. <br />What should I say about my life? That it's long and abhors transparence. <br />Broken eggs make me grieve; the omelet, though, makes me vomit. <br />Yet until brown clay has been rammed down my larynx, <br />only gratitude will be gushing from it.<br /><br />Joseph Brodsky<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/may-24-1980/
