Текст песни Бродский - Деревянный Лаокоон, сбросив на время гору с...

Wooden Laocoon, dropping on the mountain with time
     shoulders, sticks them under a huge cloud. From Cape
     raid sharp gusts of wind. Voice
     tries to keep the words, yelp, within the meaning of.
     Rain pours: twisted ropes
     lash back hills, just the blade in the bath.
     Midwinter sea of ​​moving bits of the colonnade,
     as salty language for broken teeth.
     Feral heart still beats for two.
     Every hunter knows where to sit pheasants - in a pool under a still.
     For the present day stands still tomorrow,
     as a predicate for the subject.