Flight into Egypt (2), by Joseph Brodsky, translated by Seamus Heaney

In the cave—it sheltered them, at least, safer than four square-set right angles— in the cave the threesome felt secure in the reek of straw and old clobber. Straw for bedding. Outside the door, blizzard, sandstorm, howling air, Mule rubbed ox; they stirred and groaned like sand and snowflake scourged in wind. Mary prays; the […]

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