Boris Pasternak

(10 February 1890 - 30 May 1960 / Moscow)

Boris Pasternak Poems

81. Spring 4/3/2010
82. Spring (Fragment 3) 4/3/2010
83. Spring Shower 4/3/2010
84. Stars Were Racing 4/3/2010
85. Storm, Momentary, Forever 4/3/2010
86. Storm-Wind 4/3/2010
87. Sultry Night 4/3/2010
88. Swifts (2) 4/3/2010
89. The Drowsy Garden 5/27/2014
90. The Earth 4/3/2010
91. The Garden Scatters Burnt-Up Beetles... 4/3/2010
92. The Girl 4/3/2010
93. The Linden Avenue 4/3/2010
94. The Patient Watches 4/3/2010
95. The Patient's Sweater 4/3/2010
96. The Road 4/3/2010
97. The Shiv'Ring Piano, Foaming At The Mouth 4/3/2010
98. The Spring-It Had Simply Been You 4/3/2010
99. The Steppe 4/3/2010
100. The Swifts (1) 4/3/2010
101. The Weeping Garden 4/3/2010
102. The Wind(Four Fragments Concerning Blok) 4/3/2010
103. There'Ll Be No One In The House... 4/3/2010
104. Things Of Great Worth Shall Come To Pass... 4/3/2010
105. Three Variants 4/3/2010
106. Thunderstorm, Instantaneous Forever 4/3/2010
107. To Anna Akhmatova 4/3/2010
108. To Boris Pilnyak 4/3/2010
109. To The Memory Of Demon 4/3/2010
110. Try And Don'T Let Me Grieve 4/3/2010
111. Unique Days 4/3/2010
112. Venice 4/3/2010
113. Wet Paint 4/3/2010
114. When It Clears Up 4/3/2010
115. White Night 4/3/2010
116. Wind 4/3/2010
117. Winter Nears 4/3/2010
118. Winter Night 1/3/2003
119. Winter Sky 4/3/2010
120. With Oars At Rest 4/3/2010
Best Poem of Boris Pasternak

Winter Night

It snowed and snowed ,the whole world over,
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.

As during summer midges swarm
To beat their wings against a flame
Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed
To beat against the window pane

The blizzard sculptured on the glass
Designs of arrows and of whorls.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.

Distorted shadows fell
Upon the lighted ceiling:
Shadows of crossed arms,of crossed legs-
Of crossed destiny.

Two tiny shoes fell to the floor
And ...

Read the full of Winter Night

A Dream

I dreamt of autumn in the window's twilight,
And you, a tipsy jesters' throng amidst. '
And like a falcon, having stooped to slaughter,
My heart returned to settle on your wrist.

But time went on, grew old and deaf. Like thawing
Soft ice old silk decayed on easy chairs.
A bloated sunset from the garden painted
The glass with bloody red September tears.

[Hata Bildir]