Boris Pasternak
- Single Days, by Andrey Kneller
(During the lengthy winter terms...) - The Exclusive Days, by Yevgeny Bonver
(In the lifetime of many days...)
Boris Pasternak (nederlands)
- Van alle winters, stuk voor stuk..., Arie Van Der Ent
«Now my grief won't be spilt by the ringing, / Happy laugh of the bygone last. / Lime-tree blossom is fading and dimming / And the nightingale dawns have passed. / / All was new to me then, and emotions / Filled my heart to the brim, so good. / Whereas now every word, kind and cautio...»
«Life is tricky with enchanting pathos / That is why it is so powerful, and / It composes its pernicious letters / With its outrageous, rugged hand. / / When I close my eyes I tacitly declare: / Touch your heart and you will plainly see, / Life is fraudulent, but here and there / ...»
«Both this street and this little house / Have been long so familiar to me. / Up the window the blue straws of wires / Are weighed down as they once used to be. / / There've been years of austere contingency / Years of vehement endeavours, too. / I remember my village, my infancy / ...»
«I have left my endeared home, / Getting out of my Russia of blue. / Little grove by the pond will warm / My old mother's sorrow anew. / / Like a golden croaker the moon / Lies prostrate on the water tranquil. / Grizzly hair, like apple-tree bloom, / In my father's beard will spill...»