Boris Pasternak
- First Snow, by Rupert Moreton
(Outside, the blizzard sets in deep...)
Boris Pasternak (français)
- La premier neige, Michel Aucouturier
(Tout disparaît sous le manteau...)
«Twice I woke up tonight and wandered to / the window. And the lights down on the street, / like pale omission points, tried to complete / the fragment of a sentence spoken through / sleep, but diminished darkness, too. I’d dreamt that you were pregnant, and in spite / of having lived so...»
«No matter what went on around them; no matter / what message the snowstorm was straining to utter; / or how crowded they thought that wooden affair; / or that there was nothing for them anywhere. Above their encampment, the sky. cold and idle, / and leaning as big things will do over little...»
«I, who have traveled half my earthly road, / make my appearance in the Luxembourg / and contemplate the petrified gray curls / of thinkers and of scribblers. Gents and broads / are strolling to and fro ; a whiskered / blue copper glistens from the thicket ; / the fountain purrs, the chil...»
«Six. / Ponderous. The chimes of a clock. / "Render unto Ceasar… render unto God…" / But where’s / someone like me to dock? / Where to find waiting — a lair? / Were I / like the ocean of ocean little, / on the tiptoes of waves I’d rise, / I’d strain, a tide, to caress th...»