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.
But time grew old and deaf. And you, the loud one,
Quite suddenly were still. This broke a spell.
The dreaming ceased at once, as though in answer
To an abruptly silenced bell.
And I awakened. Dismal as the autumn
The dawn was dark. A stronger wind arose
To chase the racing birchtrees on the skyline,
As from a running cart the streams of straws.
Back to Boris Pasternak
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Comments1Hey there, how are you? I enjoyed reading your work and started thinking about how your poetry could have its own visual identity. A collection of illustrations inspired by your poems could give readers another way to connect with the themes and emotions in your writing.
I'm a professional commissioned comic artist who creates custom paid artwork for writers. I'd be interested in exploring a project based on your poetry, from individual poem illustrations to a more connected visual collection.
I'd be happy to share my portfolio and discuss an approach that suits your preferences and budget.
Discord: laurendoesitall
Best wishes,
Lauren