Текст песни Иосиф Бродский - Элегия

Costs of spirit - cries of the mind
and logic, - you are equally good,
when is the whitish winter again
wanders in the fields more silently than the soul.

What then do I think alone
why do I gaze intently after her.
This time December has anticipated
its February thaws light.

What cold weather lies ahead of us.
But, warmed by the past, we
do not remember how the cities descend
on the painful exhalations of winter.

Mad and evil fields!
Their silence is mad and immeasurable.
That is not peace, then the dark earth
reminds of a different appearance.

There is some kind of horror in this whiteness.
And I see that life goes on like a challenge
disgrace fallen from the outside
to this unconscious closeness.