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Josef Brodsky

THEMES: VENICE

This is the first post in a new category, one which brings together poems with a connecting theme.

Links to all of the poems on the site set in Venice and other islands in the Venetian Lagoon are listed in alphabetical order:

 

ACCADEMIA BRIDGE

Although elsewhere they must compete with tall men

from Senegal selling faux Gucchi bags…

https://davidselzer.com/2018/09/accademia-bridge/

 

A CONTINUING CITY

A millennium of trade and empire

has pushed the wooden piles the founders drove

more deeply into the seditious silt…

https://davidselzer.com/2012/12/a-definitive-history-of-venice/

 

BACINO DI SAN MARCO

From the Daniele’s restaurant terrace,

a bride and groom watch a shower of rain…

https://davidselzer.com/2012/12/a-definitive-history-of-venice-3/

 

CITY OF ART

There are the Biennale’s Big Beasts, of course…

https://davidselzer.com/2018/09/city-of-art/

 

COGNITIVE DISSONANCE

Ezra Pound looks both querulous and almost

slightly shifty…

https://davidselzer.com/2024/06/cognitive-dissonance/

 

DECLINE AND FALL

Once, there were no panhandlers in La

Serenissima. Now there are four beggars…

https://davidselzer.com/2012/12/a-definitive-history-of-venice-2/

 

EZRA POUND IN VENICE

Sitting in a traghetto, Olga Rudge

from Ohio and Ezra Pound from

Idaho – together fifty years…

https://davidselzer.com/2009/06/ezra-pound-in-venice/

 

FRUITS OF THE SEA

On the island of Burano, where women,

sitting at their front doors for the light, make lace…

https://davidselzer.com/2018/09/fruits-of-the-sea/

 

GRANDE HÔTEL DES BAINS

…Cholera is no longer a rumour…

 https://davidselzer.com/2018/09/grande-hotel-des-bains/

 

LA FENICE

At Punta Della Dogana, a cellist

seated under the arcade, is playing

melodies from operatic arias…

https://davidselzer.com/2018/09/la-fenice/

 

LA SERENISSIMA

…stucco white as cuttlefish. In shadows,

a lion’s mouth utters advantage or blame.

The whitewashed stench of the prison inspires

the palace. An improbable city…

https://davidselzer.com/2012/12/a-definitive-history-of-venice-5/

 

O BRAVE NEW WORLD

On the third floor of Ca’ Rezzonico –

where gondoliers slept when the palazzo

was let to the song writer Cole Porter…

https://davidselzer.com/2018/09/o-brave-new-world/

 

PIAZZA DI SAN MARCO

After the sky has shaded from indigo

to sepia, when swifts have gone and pigeons

roost in the crepuscular arcades…

https://davidselzer.com/2012/12/a-definitive-history-of-venice-4/

 

RIVA DEI SETTE MARTIRE, VENICE

If you stroll far enough, long enough eastwards

on Riva Degli Schiavoni (Shore

of the Slaves)…

https://davidselzer.com/2017/11/riva-dei-sette-martiri-venice/

 

 

THE ARMENIAN MONASTERY, SAN LAZZORO, VENICE

San Lazzaro island was the city’s

leper colony until the Doge

gave the Armenians sanctuary, no doubt

to annoy the Turks…

https://davidselzer.com/2016/09/the-armenian-monastery-san-lazzaro-venice/

 

THE FISH MARKET

The resin and fibreglass installation

of one of the sculptor’s small children’s

hands and wrists emerges from the Grand Canal…

https://davidselzer.com/2018/09/the-fish-market

 

THE GARIBALDI STATUE, VENICE

Usually on a geometric plinth,

sometimes ahorse, once like Charlemagne…

https://davidselzer.com/2018/11/the-garibaldi-statue-venice/

 

THE GHETTO

We came here more than twenty five years ago

but know when we reach the Trei Archi bridge

we have gone too far and turn…

https://davidselzer.com/2018/09/the-ghetto/

 

THE GULLS OF VENICE

Many things are forbidden in Venice…

https://davidselzer.com/2018/09/the-gulls-of-venice/

 

THE LAGOON

Like most houses over centuries here

this one has been divided…

https://davidselzer.com/2018/09/the-lagoon/

 

WINTERING IN VENICE

The exiled Russian poet, Josef Brodsky… https://davidselzer.com/2024/03/wintering-in-venice/

 

 

 

 

 

WINTERING IN VENICE

David Selzer By David Selzer3 Comments2 min read1.2K views

The exiled Russian poet, Josef Brodsky,

winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature,

whom the Soviet authorities

had forced to ’emigrate’ permanently,

taught at various colleges in the States,

and usually spent his Christmas/New Year

vacations in Venice, a city

that reminded him of his native

Leningrad – previously and now

St Petersburg. Tzar Peter the Great

had canalised the Ladoga marshes

to build a northern city emulating,

perhaps outdoing, La Serenissima.

 

The American poet, Ezra Pound –

self-exiled to Venice, claiming he feared

the electric chair if he had returned

after the war to the States – was buried

in the Protestant Cemetery

on the island of San Michele, along

with consuls and admirals, and, in time,

Brodsky himself, a descendant of revered

rabbis become a Christian convert.

 

One winter’s night, Brodsky, with his then lover,

the American Jewish polymath

Susan Sontag – who, years later, would stage

‘Waiting for Godot’ in a candle-lit

theatre in besieged Sarajevo –

visited Olga Rudge, Ezra Pound’s widow,

in her apartment near La Salute,

a church built as a votive offering

for the city’s once more surviving the plague.

With Gaudier-Brzeka’s hieratic

bust of the poet standing a yard tall

in a far corner of the room, they listened,

for two hours, as patiently as they

were able, to the widow’s rehearsed defence

of her late husband – “He had a Jewish name…

and Jewish friends…” – declined more tea, and left.

 

A few years after this encounter Brodsky

had open heart surgery in New York,

and later, two bypass operations.

He remained a heavy smoker, and died,

aged 55, from a heart attack

in his Brooklyn Height’s apartment.

The coffin was flown in the cargo-hold to Venice –

‘A drowning city, where suddenly the dry

light of reason dissolves in the moisture

of the eye’ – and, from Marco Polo airport,

taken by water-hearse to San Michele.

 

Homesick for his family and city

this unselfpitying, bilingual

genius in his writings about Venice,

poetry and prose, frequently mentions

the wintry fogs that rise on the lagoon,

and drift along the canals, and soften

the pillars of arcades, and baffle

the echoing sounds of distant footfalls…

…’A tin can launched skyward

with the tip of a shoe goes sailing

out of sight, and a minute later

there is still no sound of it falling on

wet sand. Or, for that matter, a splash’.

 

 

Note: see also EZRA POUND IN VENICE.