Boris Pasternak
- Snow is falling, falling down..., by Evgenia Sarkisyants
- Snowflakes glide..., by Andrey Kneller
- Snowing on..., by Vyacheslav Chetin
Boris Pasternak (français)
- Il neige, Michel Aucouturier
«That voice, with great quietude arguing, / Had a victory over her. / In me still, like song or woe, / Is last winter before the war. She was whiter than Smolny Cathedral / More mysterious than summer garden at noon / We didn't know that in parting sadness / We'd be looking back soon.»
«To say goodbye we don't know — / It's already nearing night, / We are walking shoulder to shoulder, / You are pensive and I am quiet We'll walk into church, we'll witness / The singing, the wedding, the cross, / Not seeing each other, we'll exit.... / Why are things not working for us...»
«You won't hear about him any longer, / You won't hear about him in the wind, / In the mournful fire-consumed Poland / His grave you will not find. May your spirit be still and peaceful, / There will be no losses now: / He is new warrior of God's army, / Do not be about him in sorrow. I...»
«Did for this, and for this only, / In my arms I carry you, / Did for this the strength of will flash / In your gorgeous eyes of blue? Tall and elegant you've grown, / You sang songs, Madeira drank, / To the far-off Anatolia / You have driven your mine tank. On the Malahov's kurgan / ...»