Who is Joseph Brodsky

Iosif Aleksandrovich Brodsky (/ˈbrɒdski/; Russian: Ио́сиф Алекса́ндрович Бро́дский [ɪˈosʲɪf ɐlʲɪˈksandrəvʲɪtɕ ˈbrotskʲɪj] (listen); 24 May 1940 – 28 January 1996) was a Russian and American poet and essayist.

Born in Leningrad in 1940, Brodsky ran afoul of Soviet authorities and was expelled ("strongly advised" to emigrate) from the Soviet Union in 1972, settling in the United States with the help of W. H. Auden and other supporters. He taught thereafter at Mount Holyoke College, and at universities including ...
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Joseph Brodsky Poems

  • Letters To The Roman Friend
    From Martial
    Now is windy and the waves are cresting over
    Fall is soon to come to change the place entirely.
    Change of colors moves me, Postum, even stronger ...
  • Bosnia Tune
    As you pour yourself a scotch
    Crush a roach or check your watch
    As your hands adjust your tie people die
  • Törnfallet
    There is a meadow in Sweden
    where I lie smitten,
    eyes stained with clouds'
    white ins and outs. ...
  • Seven Strophes
    I was but what you'd brush
    with your palm, what your leaning
    brow would hunch to in evening's
    raven-black hush. ...
  • Stone Villages
    The stone-built villages of England.
    A cathedral bottled in a pub window.
    Cows dispersed across fields.
    Monuments to kings. ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Joseph Brodsky

Time 8 Love 8 I Love You 8 Night 7 Face 6 Water 6 Life 6 Dark 6 Future 5 Evening 5

Joseph Brodsky Quotes

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Comments about Joseph Brodsky

  • Driapustaka: “there are worse crimes than burning books. one of them is not reading them.” ― joseph brodsky
  • Stewey444: a new daily reminder: "freedom is when you forget the spelling of the tyrant's name." - joseph brodsky -
  • Bbedway: "for in a real tragedy, it is not the hero who perishes; it is the chorus.” —joseph brodsky, nobel prize lecture
  • Ramonsomoza1: there are worse crimes than burning books. one of them is not reading them. joseph brodsky
  • Notniceone: “if there is any substitute for love, it is memory.” ― joseph brodsky
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Poem of the day

Ezra Pound Poem
Taking Leave Of A Friend
 by Ezra Pound

Blue mountains to the north of the walls,
White river winding about them;
Here we must make separation
And go out through a thousand miles of dead grass.

Mind like a floating wide cloud,
Sunset like the parting of old acquaintances
Who bow over their clasped hands at a distance.

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