Сочинения Иосифа Бродского. Том IV

«Slave, come to my service!» «Yes, my master. Yes?»
«Quick, fetch my chariot, hitch up the horses: I’ll go for a ride in the country».
«Do that, my master. Do that. A carefree wanderer
always fills his belly, a stray dog always
finds a bone, a migrating swallow is especially skilled in nesting,
a wild donkey finds the grass in the driest desert».
«No, slave. I won’t go for a ride in the country».
«Don’t go, my master. Don’t bother.
The lot of a wanderer is always dicey.
A stray dog loses its teeth. The nest
of a migrating swallow gets buried in plaster.
Naked earth is a wild donkey’s bedding».

IV

«Slave, come to my service!» «Yes, my master. Yes?»
«I feel like starting a family, like begetting children».
«Good thinking, my master. Start a family, start a family.
Who has children secures his name, repeated in posthumous prayers».
«No, slave. I won’t start a family, I won’t have children!»
«Don’t start it, my master. Don’t have them.
A family is like a broken door, its hinge is creaking.
Only a third of one’s children are healthy; two-thirds always sickly».
«So, should I start a family?» «Don’t start a family.
Who starts a family wastes his ancestral house».

V

«Slave, come to my service!» «Yes, my master. Yes?»
«I shall yield to my enemy; in the court, I’ll stay silent before my detractors».
«Right, my master, right. Yield to your enemy;
keep silence, my master, before your detractors».
«No, slave! I won’t be silent, and I won’t yield!»
«Don’t yield, my master, and don’t be silent.
Even if you don’t open your mouth at all
your enemies will be merciless and cruel to you, as well as numerous».

VI

«Slave, come to my service!» «Yes, my master. Yes?»
«I feel like doing some evil, eh?»
«Do that, my master. By all means, do some evil.
For how otherwise can you stuff your belly?
How, without doing evil, can you dress yourself warmly?»
«No, slave. I shall do no evil!»
«Evildoers are either killed, or flayed alive and blinded,
or blinded and flayed alive and thrown into a dungeon».

VII

«Slave, come to my service!» «Yes, my master. Yes?»
«I’ll fall in love with a woman». «Fall in love, my master. Fall in love!
Who falls in love with a woman forgets his griefs and sorrows».
«No, slave. I won’t fall in love with a woman!»
«Don’t love, my master. Don’t love.
Woman is a snare, a trap, a dark pit.
Woman is a sharp steel blade slitting man’s throat in darkness».

VIII