Poems by Boris Pasternak
Railway Station
... A train comes past bare platforms sweeping - ...
Lessons of English
... Their shoulders stripped of passion's tatters, ...
So they begin. With two years gone...
... "Thy will be done" where oats are sprouting, ...
Intoxication
... Well then, let us spread out on the ground ...
The Steppe
... The rick, and the mist, and the steppe all round ...
My desk is not so wide that I might lean
... No, not with snowflakes! With your arms! Reach far! ...
How few are we. Probably three...
... We're eras, We're trains, in a caravan ripping ...
In the Wood
... So like wax, soft in the fingers, theirs, the world ...
Change
... My faith in those who seemed my friends ...
A Dream
... ' And like a falcon, having stooped to slaughter, ...
Poetry
... The shower's offshoots stick in clusters ...
Soul
... You smell of dust, of death's decay, ...
Bad Days
... How, started, the candle-flame guttered, ...
Hamlet
... I am alone; all round me drowns in falsehood: ...
False Alarm
... Through leaves in yellow terror, ...
