Boris Pasternak
Snowing on...

Snowing on, snowing on.
On a windowsill, the flower
Of geranium's reaching out for
Starlets of the snow beyond.

Snowing on and all’s in chaos,
All's engaged into a twirl:
Wooden footsteps of back stairs
And a snowbound crossroad turn.

Snowing on, snowing on.
Like instead of snowflake starlets,
Vault of heaven in a darned coat
Slowly squeezes in alow.

Like the chap who lives atop,
An odd fellow from the attic,
Stealthily, like playing hide-seek,
Heaven crouches from the loft.

Inasmuch as life can’t wait.
Look around, and here’s a yuletide;
Just a break as short as few nights,
And a New Year is ahead.

Snow is thick, very thick.
Keeping pace and right behind it,
In its tempo, on its heels,
Just as idly or as quick,
Probably, the time's expiring.
If a year succeeds a year
Like the snow that goes ahead
Or the vocals in a rhyme scheme...

Snowing on, snowing on,
Snowing on and all’s in chaos:
Walkers, whitened by the snow,
An astonished house geranium
And a snowbound crossroad turn.

Translated by Vyacheslav Chetin