A postcard from Königsberg
The rubble is a feast of oxygen
and time. The newest Archimedes
may well have added to the ancient law,
that any object when immersed into a space
will be forced back from it.
The water
pounds in a sullen mirror the wreckage
of the Elector's Castle; which by now
may heed some more the bodements of the river,
than in those early self-assured days when
the elector had it put up.
Someone
is rambling through the ruins turning over
the last year's leaves. It is the wind,
who like a lost son at the parent's house
has stepped in and at once received all letters.
В оригинале:
Иосиф Бродский. Открытка из города К. 1967
"Развалины есть праздник кислорода..."
https://www.culture.ru/poems/31044/
otkrytka-iz-goroda-k