Boris Pasternak

Boris Pasternak HOME
Boris Pasternak Hamlet The murmurs ebb; onto the stage I enter. I am trying, standing in the door, To discover in the distant echoes What the coming years may hold in store. The nocturnal darkness with a thousand Binoculars is focused onto me. Take away this cup, O Abba Father, Everything is possible to Thee. I am fond of this Thy stubborn project, And to play my part I am content. But another drama is in progress, And, this once, O let me be exempt. But the plan of action is determined, And the end irrevocably sealed. I am alone; all round me drowns in falsehood: Life is not a walk across a field. Unique Days How I remember solstice days Through many winters long completed! Each unrepeatable, unique, And each one countless times repeated. Of all these days, these only days, When one rejoiced in the impression That time had stopped, there grew in years An unforgettable succession. Each one of them I can evoke. The year is to midwinter moving, The roofs are dripping, roads are soaked, And on the ice the sun is brooding. Then lovers hastily are drawn To one another, vague and dreaming, And in the heat, upon a tree The sweating nesting-box is steaming. And sleepy clock-hands laze away The clockface wearily ascending. Eternal, endless is the day, And the embrace is never-ending. Here—now—our age of socialism! Here—now—our age of socialism! Here in the thick of life below. Today in the name of things to be Into the future forth we go. Like Georgia shining in her beauty, Like a land of light by open seas, It beckons-veiled within a mist Of wild surmise and theories. There mothers of Putivl no more Lament like cuckoos their dismay; There joy no longer looks askance In fear, but walks abroad by day. There life and happiness converse Together, free from hate and strife, All joined to give their saving strength And stay to every child and wife. There men no longer by exchange Compute the things they have or owe, But gladly spend themselves in giving- The all they have, the all they know. Then let my message overtake This wondrous age in history: O may my children in their gladness Out of the future answer me!

Hamlet

The murmurs ebb; onto the stage I enter.
I am trying, standing in the door,
To discover in the distant echoes
What the coming years may hold in store.

The nocturnal darkness with a thousand
Binoculars is focused onto me.
Take away this cup, O Abba Father,
Everything is possible to Thee.

I am fond of this Thy stubborn project,
And to play my part I am content.
But another drama is in progress,
And, this once, O let me be exempt.

But the plan of action is determined,
And the end irrevocably sealed.
I am alone; all round me drowns in falsehood:
Life is not a walk across a field.

Unique Days

How I remember solstice days
Through many winters long completed!
Each unrepeatable, unique,
And each one countless times repeated.

Of all these days, these only days,
When one rejoiced in the impression
That time had stopped, there grew in years
An unforgettable succession.

Each one of them I can evoke.
The year is to midwinter moving,
The roofs are dripping, roads are soaked,
And on the ice the sun is brooding.

Then lovers hastily are drawn
To one another, vague and dreaming,
And in the heat, upon a tree
The sweating nesting-box is steaming.

And sleepy clock-hands laze away
The clockface wearily ascending.
Eternal, endless is the day,
And the embrace is never-ending.

Here—now—our age of socialism!

Here—now—our age of socialism!
Here in the thick of life below.
Today in the name of things to be
Into the future forth we go.

Like Georgia shining in her beauty,
Like a land of light by open seas,
It beckons-veiled within a mist
Of wild surmise and theories.

There mothers of Putivl no more
Lament like cuckoos their dismay;
There joy no longer looks askance
In fear, but walks abroad by day.

There life and happiness converse
Together, free from hate and strife,
All joined to give their saving strength
And stay to every child and wife.

There men no longer by exchange
Compute the things they have or owe,
But gladly spend themselves in giving-
The all they have, the all they know.

Then let my message overtake
This wondrous age in history:
O may my children in their gladness
Out of the future answer me!