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“Black spring! Pick up your pen, and weeping…” by Boris Pasternak

Posted by admin on February 10, 2019 with No Commentsas



B. February 10, 1880, D. May 30, 1960.

Black spring! Pick up your pen, and weeping…

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.

RIFF COHEN – JEAN QUI RIT JEAN QUI PLEURE

Posted by admin on February 7, 2019 with No Comments