Текст песни Иосиф Бродский - Стансы городу

Let there be given
     I die far from you,
     pigeons in the mountains,
     bandy-legged boy echoing.
     Let there be given
     and you, hurrying clouds,
     see in the dark
     my tears and pitiful grief.

     Let me otpoet
     Choir water and heaven, and granite
     let me hug,
     Let absorb,
     my step remembering
     let me otpoet,
     let me, a fugitive, Autumn
     white night your
     fixed terrestrial glory.

     All silenced around.
     Only the black tug shout
     in the middle of the river,
     frantically struggling with the darkness,
     and the night flying
     this poor life betrothed
     with your beauty
     and a post-mortem of my rightness.