POEMS
Joseph Brodsky
AENEAS AND DIDO
The great man stared out through the empty window,
but her entire world ended at the border
of his broad Grecian tunic, whose abundance
of folds had the fixed, frozen look of seawaves
long since immobilized.
And he still stared
through the wide window with a gaze so distant
that
his
lips seemed to freeze and form a seashell,
one that concealed an inward, muted roar.
The shimmering horizon in
his
goblet
was motionless.
But her vast love appeared
to
be
only a fish, a fish which yet
might plunge into the sea after
his
ship,
knifing the waves with its slim supple body,
and somehow overtake him - except that he,
in thought, already strode upon dry land.
The sea became a sea of shining tears.
But, as we know, precisely at the moment
of our deepest despair fresh winds spring up.
The great man sailed from Carthage.
Dido stood
alone before the bonfire which her soldiers
had kindled by the city's walls, and there-
as in a vision trembling between flame
and smoke - she watched great Carthage silently
crumble to ash,
long ages before Cato's prophecy.
Translated
by
George
L.
Kline.
NOTE:
An earlier version of this translation appeared in
Russian Litera–
ture TriQuarterly,
Fall
1971 .
The present version is considerably revised.
