Classic Poetry Series

Boris Pasternak
- poems -

Publication Date:
2004

Publisher:
PoemHunter.Com - The World's Poetry Archive
 Hops

Beneath the willow wound round with ivy

we take cover from the worst
of the storm, with a greatcoat round
our shoulders and my hands around your waist.

I've got it wrong. That isn't ivy

entwined in the bushes round
the wood, but hops. You intoxicate me!
Let's spread the greatcoat on the ground.

Boris Pasternak

www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 2

 March

The sun is hotter than the top ledge in a steam bath;

The ravine, crazed, is rampaging below.
Spring -- that corn-fed, husky milkmaid --
Is busy at her chores with never a letup.

The snow is wasting (pernicious anemia --

See those branching veinlets of impotent blue?)
Yet in the cowbarn life is burbling, steaming,
And the tines of pitchforks simply glow with health.

These days -- these days, and these nights also!

With eavesdrop thrumming its tattoos at noon,
With icicles (cachectic!) hanging on to gables,
And with the chattering of rills that never sleep!

All doors are flung open -- in stable and in cowbarn;

Pigeons peck at oats fallen in the snow;
And the culprit of all this and its life-begetter--
The pile of manure -- is pungent with ozone.

Boris Pasternak

www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 3

 Winter Night

It snowed and snowed ,the whole world over,

Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.

As during summer midges swarm

To beat their wings against a flame
Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed
To beat against the window pane

The blizzard sculptured on the glass

Designs of arrows and of whorls.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.

Distorted shadows fell

Upon the lighted ceiling:
Shadows of crossed arms,of crossed legs-
Of crossed destiny.

Two tiny shoes fell to the floor

And thudded.
A candle on a nightstand shed wax tears
Upon a dress.

All things vanished within

The snowy murk-white,hoary.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.

A corner draft fluttered the flame

And the white fever of temptation
Upswept its angel wings that cast
A cruciform shadow

It snowed hard throughout the month

Of February, and almost constantly
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.

Boris Pasternak

www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 4