Boris Pasternak
- Us few. Perhaps us three — just..., by Don Mager
- We`re few, perhaps three, hellish fellows, by Babette Deutsch
«On a pleasing Atlantic / Breath of spring — / Like a stupendous butterfly / My curtain — and — I Like a Hindu widow / Enter the gold-lipped crater, / Like a listless Naiad / Enter the sea beyond a window...»
«for Vera Arenskaya On the refugee-road! / It whooped — and bolted / Headlong on its wheels. / Time! I don’t have time. Caught up in chronicles / And kisses... like sands / In rustling streams... / Time, you let me down! Of clock-hands and wrinkles’ / Furrows — of American / ...»
«Hell’s too small, heaven too small to contain you: / Everyone’s already at the point of dying for you. But to follow your brother, sadly, into the fire — / Really, is that customary? It’s not a sister’s / Place, to radiate passion! / Really, is it customary to lie in his barrow......»
«Time the upper reaches are laid bare, / Time you gaze into our souls — as into our eyes. / These — open sluices of blood! / These — open sluices of night! Our blood surged, like the night / Our blood surged, — like our blood / The night surged! (Upper regions of the ear / Time: ...»