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...)
«Man's ponderings and labours, dream-like, pass away, / Heroes will be forgot, and sepulchres decay, — / And all in common dust is merged. / And righteousness and love, and sciences and lore, / As words upon a slate, whose meaning is no more, / By undiscovered hand axe purged. But words ...»
«I view the promised land before me, — / Gleaming of waters, tents of trees. / But anger of the Lord forbore me / To touch the dower I long to seize. I rose from heat and sandy places, / I tasted death in living hours: / My strength so wanes, that it effaces / Within my soul all placid...»
«What you are wont to name as inspiration, / Delicacy of hearkening I call; / Hours there are that palpably enthrall, / When I hear the plaintive incantation. Of someone who above my spirit stirred: / I hark, I grope, I feel, my senses wane... / I labour on until I shape again / The thin...»
«Down yonder, 'mid hills in a shimmering bend / Lo, the city afar. / Pale village and woodland before it extend, / Where tintings of meadow and pasturage blend, / The city gleams faintly afar. Nor dwelling, nor yard - but in shadows of night, / Somethi...»