Speaking In Tongues
Scribbling In Voices

BORIS PASTERNAK

БОРИС ПАСТЕРНАК

Translated by Maya Jouravel

© Translation, Maya Jouravel, 1994-1998



WINTER NIGHT


It swept, it swept around the land
In all its turnings.
The candle’s burning on a stand,
The candle burning.

As swarm of midges in the dark
To fire flutters,
Rushed flakes of snow from the park
To window shutter.

The storm was shaping on the glass
Some darts and circlings...
The candle burning on the desk,
The candle burning.

On ceiling, lit up by a blaze
The shadows tossing,
Of crossing arms and crossing legs,
Of fate-doom crossings.

And to the floor, your little shoes
With taps were slipping.
And wax from night-light on your dress,
Like tears, was dripping.

And all has vanished in a daze,
Snow white and ashen
The candle burning on the desk,
The candle burning.

The flame was flickered by the wind...
Heat of temptation
Heaved, as an angel, its two wings
In cross-form fashion.

It swept that month without rest
Again and over,
The candle burning on the desk,
The candle burning...

ЗИМНЯЯ НОЧЬ


Мело, мело по всей земле,
Во все пределы.
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела.

Как летом, роем мошкара
Летит на пламя,
Слетались хлопья со двора
К оконной раме.

Метель лепила на стекле
Кружки и стрелы,
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела...

На озаренный потoлок
Ложились тени,
Сплетенья рук, сплетенья ног,
Судьбы сплетенья...

И падали два башмачка
Со стуком на пол,
И воск слезами с ночника
На платье капал.

И все терялось в снежной мгле,
Седой и белой.
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела.

На свечку дуло из угла,
И жар соблазна
Вздымал, как ангел, два крыла
Крестообразно.

Мело весь месяц в феврале,
И то и дело
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела...