Categorie archief: Boris Pasternak

Winter Nears (Boris Pasternak)

Winter nears. Once more the bear’s secret retreat will vanish under mud’s floor, to a child’s fretful grief. Huts will wake in the water, reflecting paths of smoke, circled by autumn’s tremor lovers meet by the fire to talk. Denizens … Lees verder

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In the wood (Boris Pasternak)

Blurred by a lilac heat, the meadows: in the wood, cathedral shadows swirled. What on earth was left for them to kiss? So like wax, soft in the fingers, theirs, the world. There’s a dream – you do not sleep, … Lees verder

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The Weeping Garden (Boris Pasternak)

It’s terrible! – all drip and listening. Whether, as ever, it’s loneliness, splashing a branch, like lace, on the window, or whether perhaps there’s a witness. Choked there beneath its swollen burden – earth’s nostrils, and audibly, like August, far … Lees verder

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