‘February. Take ink and weep,’
February. Take ink and weep,
write February as you’re sobbing,
while black Spring burns deep
through the slush and throbbing.
Take a cab. For a clutch of copecks,
through bell-towers’ and wheel noise,
go where the rain-storm’s din breaks,
greater than crying or ink employs.
Where rooks in thousands falling,
like charred pears from the skies,
drop down into puddles, bringing
cold grief to the depths of eyes.
Below, the black shows through,
and the wind’s furrowed with cries:
the more freely, the more truly
then, sobbing verse is realised.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (‘February. Take ink and weep,’ by Boris Pasternak )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- A Soldiers Lament, Phil Soar
- The Sloth, Phil Soar
- The Double Play, Robert Wallace
- Kippers, Phil Soar
- what does hope tell you?, RIC S. BASTASA
- OUT, Phil Soar
- then we have changed from quizzical to a.., RIC S. BASTASA
- A Fishy Tale, Phil Soar
- those who are dying, RIC S. BASTASA
- For Lou and the rest of us, RIC S. BASTASA