I am just tired of summer

Not that I am losing my grip: I am just tired of summer.

You reach for a shirt in a dra­wer and the day is wasted.

If only win­ter were here for snow to smother

all the­se streets, the­se humans; but first, the blasted

green. I would sleep in my clo­thes or just pluck a borrowed

book, while what’s left of the year’s slack rhythm,

like a dog aban­do­ning its blind owner,

cros­ses the road at the usu­al zebra. Freedom

is when you for­get the spel­ling of the tyrant’s name

and your mouth’s sali­va is swee­ter than Per­si­an pie,

and though your brain is wrung tight as the horn of a ram

not­hing drops from your pale-blue eye.

(Joseph Brod­sky)

images from films by João César Mon­tei­ro, Teo Her­nan­dez, Vin­cent Bar­ré, Pierre Cre­ton, Lor­dan Zafra­no­vić, Dani­elle Jaeg­gi, Natha­ni­el Dorsky, Jero­me Hill, Antó­nio-Pedro Vas­con­ce­los, Elo Havet­ta, Nina Hedenius