Boris Pasternak
When the Weather Clears

A dish-like lake, serene and spacious,
Converging stormclouds overhead
And there, beyond, the alpine glaciers,
Lustrous and stark, sublime and dread.

The lighting alters and the woods
Go through a constant change of colour,
Now burning, now beneath a hood
Of heart-oppressing, ash-like dolour.

When at the end of rainy days
The heavy clouds abruptly pass
What festive blue the sky displays
And how triumphant looks the grass.

The wind dies down, the distance clears,
Bright sunshine floods the hills and plains
And then the foliage appears
Like paintings seen through stained-glass panes.

So from illumined chapel-windows
Saints, hermits, tsars and bishopry
Each in his brightly shining nimbus
Look out upon eternity.

I too am sometimes blessed to hear them,
The distant echoes of the choir,
As if inside a vast cathedral
The earth's expanse in grand attire.

My world, my universe, my nature,
Your livelong service to the end
With a believer's palpitation,
With tears of gladness I'll attend.

Translated by Dorian Rottenberg