Excerpt from Watermark. I always adhered to the idea that God is time, or at least that His spirit is. Perhaps this idea was even of my own manufacture, but now I. The poet Joseph Brodsky was born in Leningrad in and expelled from his homeland in , after which he settled in the US. Perhaps it. Brodsky, a survivor of the Gulag, went to Venice in search of love. He returned every winter for 17 years.

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I am not looking for a naked maiden riding on a shell; I am looking for either a cloud or the crest of a wave hitting the shore at midnight. It’s the local vistas and perspectives that do it, for in this city a man is more a silhouette than his unique features, and a silhouette can be improved.

On the contrary, I felt that from time’s point of view such entertainment here could only seem appropriate, as it generated nothing.

You must keep those things fading and withering in your wardrobe, or else give them to your younger relations. But how extremely weird that I didn’t previously know about the great eighteenth and nineteenth century mythos of Venice as a place of decadence, Romanticism and beautiful decay, and how that lingers in the present popular idea of the place even whilst the reality may be a carefully tended living museum, stuffed to the gills with camera-clicking tourists.

We disembarked at the Accademia landing, prey to firm topography and the corresponding moral code. Nisto consiste o papel desta cidade no universo.

In other words, lived to tell the story, and the story itself to repeat. As for the Evangelist himself, he of course died in Alexandria, Egyptbut of natural causesand he never josfph on a safari.

And seen by a fishendowed, let’s say, with a human eye, in order to avoid its own famous distortionman would appear a monster indeed; not an octopus, perhaps, but surely a quadropus. Hence the wealth of frothy outpourings about revamping the city, about turning the entire province of Veneto into a gateway to Central Europe, about boosting the region’s industry, expanding the harbor complex at Marghera, increasing the oil-tanker traffic in the [laguna] and deepening the [laguna] for the same purposes, about converting the Venetian Arsenale, immortalized by Dante, into the Beaubourg’s spittingliterallyimage for storing the most recently discharged phlegm, about housing an Expo here in the yearetc.


The Greek version rings, though, a better bell, since the winner gets nothing, because the slayer and the slain are related. The pilgrim’s shoe, having tested the water, is drying atop his hotel room’s radiator; the native dives into his closet to fish out his pair of rubber boots.

The grip of boredom was sudden but sure. I loved this passage — No matter what you set out for as you leave the house here, you are bound to get lost in these long, coiling lanes and passageways that beguile you to see them through, to follow them to their elusive end, which usually hits water, so tat you can’t even call it a cul-de-sac.

I was standing there waiting for the only person I knew in that city to meet me. I had seen it for the first time several years before, in that same previous incarnation: But it simply does not belong in Venice in Winter, he really went out of his way to attack Ezra Pound. By clicking on “Submit” you agree that you have read and agree to the Privacy Policy and Terms of Service. The Greeks were more on the dot with their bull, its neolithic pedigree notwithstanding.

The magnificent, trumpetlike chimneys resembling medieval turrets in the backdrop of every Madonna and Crucifixion idle and gradually crumble away from the local skyline. Would you go with me, if you haven’t got other plans?

Watermark by Joseph Brodsky

Politicians and big businesses especially, for nothing has a greater future watetmark money. Presently a large, flat boat, something of a cross between a sardine can and a sandwich, emerged out of nowhere and with a thud nudged the [stazione]’s landing.

And the object can be a little monster, with the head of a lion and the body of a dolphin. Again, there is nothing Freudian to them, nothing joselh or unconscious. Therefore, the company I kept was that of English-speaking natives and expatriate Americans whose houses shared a familiar versionif not degreeof affluence. Brodxky most of our stroll, the poet—who would be awarded the Nobel Prize in literature—was onstage, delivering monologues. And I vowed to myself that should I ever get out of my empire, should this eel ever escape the Baltic, the first thing I would do would be to come to Venice, rent a room on the ground floor of some palazzo so that the waves raised by passing boats would splash against my window, write a couple of elegies while extinguishing my cigarettes on the damp stony floor, cough and drink, and, when the money got short, instead of boarding a train, buy myself a little Browning and blow my brains out on the spot, unable to die in Venice of natural causes.


Aatermark art is simply an organism’s reaction against its retentive limitations. One’s eye precedes one’s pen, and I resolve not to let my pen lie about its position. It must waterkark said that she took it like a mensch.

Petersburg—a violinist whose name meant nothing to me. I simply think that water is the image of time, and every New Year’s Eve, in somewhat pagan fashion, I try to find myself near water, preferably near a sea or an ocean, to watch watermwrk emergence of a new helping, a new cupful of time from it.

The City Nobel Laureate Joseph Brodsky Called Paradise

She would bundle up for the nightpink woolen jersey, scarf, stockings, long socksand, having counted [uno, due, tre! Besides, at waterkark certain age, and in a certain line of work at that, to be loved back is not exactly imperative. Or else these streets are like wardrobe racks: Dopo molti anni ci sono tornata in gennaio, per vedere broesky mostra che mi interessava, e piuttosto scocciata di dover passar La prima volta che ho letto questo libro odiavo Venezia.

At best, the major domo’s islandor should I say volcano? He is buried there. Aug 23, Kasandra rated it it was amazing. It really does look like musical sheets, frayed at the edges, constantly played, coming to you in tidal scores, in bars of canals with innumerable obbligati of bridges, mullioned windows, or curved crownings of Coducci cathedrals, not to mention the violin necks of gondolas.

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