Art by Gary Bunt

 Here's a poem by Boris Pasternak

February

By Boris Pasternak

Translated by A.Z. Foreman

 

February. Get ink. Weep.

Write the heart out about it. Sing

Another song of February

While raucous slush burns black with spring.

 

Six grivnas* for a buggy ride

Past booming bells, on screaming gears,

Out to a place where rain pours down

Louder than any ink or tears

 

Where like a flock of charcoal pears,

A thousand blackbirds, ripped awry

From trees to puddles, knock dry grief

Into the deep end of the eye.

 

A thaw patch blackens underfoot.

The wind is gutted with a scream.

True verses are the most haphazard,

Rhyming the heart out on a theme.

 

*Grivna: a unit of currency.