Boris Pasternak
- Your Picture, by unknown author
(It’s with your laughing picture that I’m living now...)
Boris Pasternak (español)
- La suplente, César Astor
(Vivo con tu retrato...)
«I am not one those who left the land / to the mercy of its enemies. / Their flattery leaves me cold, / my songs are not for them to praise. But I pity the exile’s lot / Like a felon, like a man half-dead, / dark is your path, wanderer; / wormwood infects your foreign bread. But here,...»
«Railing of iron, / A pinewood bed, / How good that I / Need no longer be jealous. This bed of mine is made / With sobbing and with pleading: / Now wander where you want — / And good luck to you! The violence of words / No more assaults your hearing. / There’s no one now to burn...»
«And slander everywhere attended me. / Reptilelike it shuffled through my sleep / And through the dead town, under a murderous sky, / At random seeking food and shelter. Each man’s eye / Flickered with the light of slander, / Now signifying treachery, now innocent fear. / I’m not afra...»
«In the early evening, the suspended bowls / Of the pale street lamps grate. / Brighter and more festive grows / The whirling spray of flakes. And through the softly falling snow, / Smoothly quickening their pace, / Under the dark blue web, as though / Sensing pursuit, the horses race. ...»