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.
Back to Boris Pasternak
To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.
Comments1Hi!
I discovered your book and really loved the world and characters you created. I?m a commission-based artist and poet, creating custom poems and artwork inspired by authors? characters, stories, and themes.
I can create something specifically for your work, whether it?s a character poem, horror, fantasy, romance, mystery, thriller, drama, adventure, sci-fi, historical, comedy, or emotional piece, along with promotional artwork and poetry.
If you?re interested, I?d be happy to send you some examples of my work!
Gmail: [email protected]