By Boris Pasternak
Winter Night
A blizzard swept throughout land
Without limits.
A candle was burning on a table,
A candle has lit it.
As midges in the summer time
Fly to the fire,
The snowflakes'd piled outside
The window's frame by.
The blizzard moulded on pane
The arrows, circles.
The candle was burning on a table,
The candle was burning.
On ceiling lightened there falled
The shadows breaking.
The cross of hands, and legs all crossed,
The cross of destiny.
Two boots had falled there on floor,
With a loud sound.
And wax was dripping all the drops
On fallen gown.
All's lost in snowstorm that day,
Grey, white in colour.
The candle was burning on the table,
The candle was burning.
The wind was blowing on it
From corner tangle,
And the temptation inner heat
Had flied as angel.
The blizzard swept the whole day
In february long so.
? candle was burning on the table,
? candle was burning.
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The famous poem
The other variant of translation look on:
http: //www.stihi.ru/2010/12/22/6359
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem