“I have always said that fate is a game ...” Joseph Brodsky

L. V. Lifshits

I've always said that fate is a game.

That the gothic style will win like a school
as the ability to hang around without being stabbed.
I am sitting by the window. Aspen outside the window.
I loved few. However, strongly.

I thought that the forest is only part of the log.
Why the whole maiden, since there is a knee.
That, tired of the dust raised by a century,
the Russian eye will rest on the Estonian spire.
I am sitting by the window. I washed the dishes.
I was happy here and never will be.

I wrote that in the light bulb - the horror of the floor.
That love, as an act, is devoid of a verb.
What Euclid did not know, that, going down to the cone,
the thing acquires not zero, but Chronos.
I am sitting by the window. I remember my youth.
Sometimes I smile, sometimes I spit.

I said that the leaf destroys the kidney.
And that the seed, falling into bad soil,
does not escape; that a meadow with a glade
there is an example of masturbation, given in Nature.
I'm sitting by the window, hugging my knees,
in the company of his own overweight shadow.

My song was devoid of motive
but not to sing it in unison. It's not a miracle

no one puts their feet on their shoulders.
I'm sitting by the window in the dark; as fast
the sea rumbles behind a wavy curtain.

Second-class citizen, proudly
I recognize it as a second-class product
your best thoughts and days to come
I give them as an experience in the fight against suffocation.

Analysis of Brodsky's poem "I always said that fate is a game ..."

The poem "I have always said that fate is a game ..." was written by I. A. Brodsky in 1971 and is dedicated to L. V. Lifshitz. This man was a close friend of Joseph Alexandrovich and probably understood better than others what was going on in the poet's soul. Therefore, such a personal, full of contradictions work is addressed to him.

This poem contains philosophical fabrications, framed by short phrases, sort of everyday notes. The composition is as follows: the stanza consists of six lines that rhyme in pairs. Four of them are worldview calculations. The last two lines are sketches from everyday life. These parts represent such a striking contrast that the reader may at first not fit in the head. However, it becomes clear to someone who knows the author well or is able to think about the meaning of the work.

The poem is built on refrains. First we see the anaphoras that open the stanzas (except for the last two): "I always repeated", "I counted", "I said". Then the beginnings of the lines containing the author's life theses are repeated:
Why do we need fish, since there is caviar.
That the gothic style will win, like a school ...

Finally, the couplet begins with the phrase "I am sitting by the window." Only in the fifth and sixth stanzas does this refrain change to "I sit in the dark."

These repetitions are not random. The central theme of the poem is reflection. The author, who is also a lyrical hero, being alone and performing simple actions (“I washed the dishes”, “I remember my youth”), restores his life principles in memory. The poet always speaks of them in the past tense, which suggests that he no longer holds these beliefs. Moreover, in some lines there is doubt about the correctness of youthful ideas about the world:
I thought that the forest is only part of the log.
Why the whole maiden, if there is a knee.

Previously, relatively speaking, the poet neglected the personality, preferring the body. Now the poet looks at things differently. Suddenly, he discovers that his inner world is no less diverse than the material world, which he previously appreciated and where he aspired. This reconciling discovery is contained in the last lines:
I am sitting in the dark. And she's no worse
in the room than the darkness outside.

So the philosophical component of the poem seeps into the everyday. This harmony is noticeable in the image "the sea rumbles behind a wavy curtain." The room is a metaphor for the poet's soul, and the sea is reflected in it in the form of a curtain that has the outlines of waves.

The only thing that worries the author is his contribution to poetry. He analyzes his own work:
My song was devoid of motive
but not to sing it in unison. It's not a miracle
what is my reward for such speeches
no one puts their feet on their shoulders.

Iosif Alexandrovich is not embarrassed that his poems are not popular with the majority, but he complains that he, as a poet, may not influence his descendants. The reader may notice here an allusion to the expression "to stand on the shoulders of giants" by Isaac Newton. However, today we can say that this prophecy, fortunately, did not come true. Many modern authors were brought up on Brodsky's work, so one cannot but overestimate his contribution to world culture.

I. Brodsky

* * *
I have always said that fate is a game.
Why do we need fish, since there is caviar.
That the gothic style will win like a school
as the ability to hang around without being stabbed.
I am sitting by the window. Aspen outside the window.
I loved few. However, strongly.

I thought that the forest is only part of the log.
Why the whole maiden, if there is a knee.
That, tired of the dust raised by a century,
the Russian eye will rest on the Estonian spire.
I am sitting by the window. I washed the dishes.
I was happy here and never will be.

I wrote that in the light bulb - the horror of the floor.
That love, as an act, is devoid of a verb.
What Euclid did not know that going down the cone,
the thing acquires not zero, but Chronos.
I am sitting by the window. I remember my youth.
Sometimes I smile, sometimes I spit.

I said that the leaf destroys the kidney.
And that the seed, falling into bad soil,
does not escape; that a meadow with a glade
there is an example of masturbation, given in Nature.
I'm sitting by the window, hugging my knees,
in the company of his own overweight shadow.

My song was devoid of motive
but not to sing it in unison. It's not a miracle
what is my reward for such speeches
no one puts their feet on their shoulders.
I sit in the dark; as fast
the sea rumbles behind a wavy curtain.

Second-class citizen, proudly
I recognize it as a second-class product
your best thoughts, and the days to come
I give them as an experience in the fight against suffocation.
I am sitting in the dark. And she's no worse
in the room than the darkness outside. Brodsky

***
I always said fate - the game .
That why we fish, times have caviar .
Gothic style that wins, as a school,
as the ability to hang around , avoid injuries .
I sit by the window. outside the window aspen.
I loved the few. However - much.

I thought that the forest - only a part of the log .
That why all virgin, if there is knee.
That, tired of the dust raised century,
Russian Estonian eyes rest on the steeple.
I sit by the window. I washed the dishes.
I was happy here, and I will no longer.

I wrote that in light bulb - horror sex.
That love, as an act Lishin verb.
Euclid didn't know that tapers,
thing acquires non-zero, but Chronos .
I sit by the window. Remember youth.
Sometimes smile, sometimes otplyunus.

I said sheet destroys kidney.
And that seed fell down in bad soil,
does not escape; that meadow with meadow
Masturbation is an example , in Nature this .
I sit by the window, hugging her knees,
in the society own ponderous shadows.

My song was Lishin motive
but it does not sing the chorus. Don't wonder
that reward me for such statements
his legs nobody puts on his shoulders.
I sit in the dark; as fast,
sea ​​thunders over undulating curtain.

Second-class citizen of the era, proudly
I admit the second grade item
their best thoughts and coming days
I give them the experience of struggle against suffocation .
I sit in the dark. And it is no worse
inside than dark outside.

* * * L.V. Lifshits I've always said that fate is a game. Why do we need fish, since there is caviar. That the gothic style will win, like a school, like the ability to stick around without being stabbed. I am sitting by the window. Aspen outside the window. I loved few. However, strongly. I thought that the forest is only part of the log. Why the whole maiden, if there is a knee. That, tired of the dust raised by a century, the Russian eye will rest on the Estonian spire. I am sitting by the window. I washed the dishes. I was happy here and never will be. I wrote that in the light bulb - the horror of the floor. That love, as an act, is devoid of a verb. What Euclid did not know was that when descending onto a cone, a thing acquires not zero, but Chronos. I am sitting by the window. I remember my youth. Sometimes I smile, sometimes I spit. I said that the leaf destroys the kidney. And that the seed, having fallen into bad soil, does not sprout; that a meadow with a clearing is an example of masturbation, given in Nature. I sit by the window, hugging my knees, in the company of my overweight shadow. My song was devoid of motive, but it cannot be sung in chorus. No wonder that no one puts their feet on my shoulders as a reward for such speeches. I sit in the dark; like an ambulance, the sea rumbles behind a wavy curtain. Second-class citizen of the era, I proudly recognize my best thoughts as a second-class commodity, and for the days to come I give them as an experience in the fight against suffocation. I am sitting in the dark. And it is no worse in the room than the darkness outside. 1971

The poem is very light. Deceptive with its false harmonic lightness. Because it's extremely deep.

The game is about the relationship of the part and the whole (forest-log, maiden-knee), causal relationships (fish-caviar), about qualitative changes (the leaf destroys the kidney), about the non-disappearance of a thing when it passes into a different qualitative state ("What Euclid did not know that, descending on the cone, the thing acquires not zero, but Chronos").

Six lines built according to the principle of deliberate contrast. The philosophical quatrain closes with a deliberately depressing couplet with "simple" lines from the gray life, which unexpectedly enrich the meaning of the upper ones, sharpening both thought and feeling.

This is an early Brodsky. The poem was written before leaving the USSR, but the ideological ones are the same philosophical basis as in the “Speech at the Sorbonne” of 1989, where Brodsky says that one should study philosophy, at best, after fifty, when philosophy you do not need it, having first learned to lose more than to gain and hate yourself more than a tyrant, because otherwise, the moral laws smell like a father's belt or a translation from German. You need to study philosophy when you realize that the chairs in your living room and the Milky Way are related to each other, and in a more intimate way than cause and effect, than you are with your relatives. And what do constellations have in common with chairs - insensitivity, inhumanity.

The strongest thing in this poem is the feeling of impending emptiness.

Time, which is acquired by a thing "descending" beyond the boundaries of being on the eve of "zero". Or instead? But this is not a living flowing time, but the tragic Chronos - a deity devouring his children.

And one more thing: a long farewell to our own life, which, in essence, is our existence.