Joseph Brodsky and the Fortunes of Misfortune : The New Yorker
“In the fall of 1963, in Leningrad, in what was then the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the young poet Dmitry Bobyshev stole the young poet Joseph Brodsky’s girlfriend. This was not cool.”
(Another entry to my series of posts on Russian-ness)
And here is a really nice Brodsky stanza because it is still poetry week in my brain. From Six Years Later:
So long had life together been that once
the snow began to fall, it seemed unending;
that, lest the flakes should make her eyelids wince,
I’d shield them with my hand, and they, pretending
not to believe that cherishing of eyes,
would beat against my palm like butterflies.
