In a Nutshell

In a Nutshell

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Posts tagged poem

Progress Report

I started this year with a few resolutions and a nice idea from the calendar.
Quote for January.
“One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.” (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)
I am better with songs (You [...]

Oh My Dear Maple

Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/13435753@N03/3518643024
Oh my dear maple
Sergei Yesenin (4 Oct. 1895 – 27 Dec. 1925)

Oh my dear maple, frozen stiff and bare,
Why do you stand bending in the blizzard there?
Have you seen a vision? Have you heard a babble?
Just like you are out for an idle ramble.
Like a tipsy [...]

A Candle Burned

 
Boris Pasternak (1890 – 1960)
 
 

  
Winter’s Night
 
 
Blizzards were blowing everywhere
Throughout the land.
A candle burned upon the table,
A candle burned.
 
 
As midgets in the summer fly
Towards a flame,
The snowflakes from the yard swarmed to
The window pane.
 
 
And, on the glass, bright snowy rings
And arrows formed.
A candle burned upon the table,
A candle burned.
 
 
And on the white illumined ceiling
Shadows were cast,
As [...]

Measuring Silence…

 
Boris Pasternak (1890 – 1960)
 
A song from the film “Fate’s Irony”.
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KjRbmBXywH4
 
 

 
***
 
There’ll be no one in the house
Save for twilight. All alone,
Winter’s day seen in the space that’s
Made by curtains left undrawn.
 
 
Only flash-past of the wet white
Snowflake clusters, glimpsed and gone.
Only roofs and snows, and save for
Roofs and snow – no one at home.
 
 
Once more, frost [...]

In Vino Veritas

 
 
Alexandr Blok (1880 – 1921)

 
Unknown Woman
 
 
Above the restaurants in the evenings
The sultry air is wild and still,
And the decaying breath of spring
Drives drunken shouting.
 
Above the dusty distant lanes
The boredom of summer homes,
The baker’s gold sign barely shines
And a child’s crying rings out.
 
Each night, beyond the crossing gates,
With bowler hats tipped rakishly,
The practiced wits stroll with [...]

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