Poems by Boris Pasternak
Out of Superstition
... My forelock touched a wondrous forehead ...
The shiv'ring piano, foaming at the mouth
... Into the fireplace, like journals, tome by tome ...
Like a braziers bronze cinders,
... Where the ponds an open secret, ...
In Memory of Marina Tsvetaeva
... Your sad clay should be brought from Yelabuga ...
Flight
... s own body; looking back one sees oneself and feels a ...
In the House of the Latin Professor
... Amores, the art of love, of words lifting ...
Angels
... Behold, I come like a thief! he shouted to the town ...
Mrs. Hill
... His wife. I am standing in the center of a room ...
The Men
... the sun back up, you stare down Highway 54, ...
Early Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest
... The great horse people, his father, these sounds, ...
Fiat
... It will light up and loose the swifts ...
Old Men Playing Basketball
... Boys rise up in old men, wings begin to sprout ...
Meeting
... And if the world's cruel-hearted, ...
Sometime at a concert hall, in recollection...
... The awkward, shy artist, with steep, dreamlike forehead, ...
The Girl
... From the swing, from the garden, helter-skelter, ...
