Boris Pasternak

March

The sun is hotter than the top ledge in a steam bath; The ravine, crazed, is rampaging below. Spring that corn-fed, husky milkmaid Is busy at her chores with never a letup. The snow

Winter Night

It snowed and snowed, the whole world over, Snow swept the world from end to end. A candle burned on the table; A candle burned. As during summer midges swarm To beat their wings

Hops

Beneath the willow wound round with ivy We take cover from the worst Of the storm, with a greatcoat round Our shoulders and my hands around your waist. I’ve got it wrong. That isn’t