Boris Pasternak

(10 February 1890 - 30 May 1960 / Moscow)

Black Spring! Pick Up Your Pen, And Weeping... - Poem by Boris Pasternak

Black spring! Pick up your pen, and weeping,
Of February, in sobs and ink,
Write poems, while the slush in thunder
Is burning in the black of spring.

Through clanking wheels, through church bells ringing
A hired cab will take you where
The town has ended, where the showers
Are louder still than ink and tears.

Where rooks, like charred pears, from the branches
In thousands break away, and sweep
Into the melting snow, instilling
Dry sadness into eyes that weep.

Beneath - the earth is black in puddles,
The wind with croaking screeches throbs,
And-the more randomly, the surer
Poems are forming out of sobs.

Original Version ??
Феврал& #1100;. Достать чернил и плакать! Писать о феврале навзрыд, Пока грохочу щая слякоть Весною черною горит. Достать пролетк у. За шесть гривен, Чрез благове ст, чрез клик колес, Перенес тись туда, где ливень Еще шумней чернил и слез. Где, как обуглен ные груши, С деревье в тысячи грачей Сорвутс я в лужи и обрушат Сухую грусть на дно очей. Под ней протали ны чернеют, И ветер криками изрыт, И чем случайн ей, тем вернее Слагают ся стихи навзрыд.


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 3, 2010



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