Boris Pasternak In Everything I want to reach

In everything I want to reach
The very essence,
In work, in searching for my way,
In heart’s obsessions,

To entity of once passed days,
And their causes,
To roots, the fundamental base,
And very cores.

Connecting thread of fates, events,
To live, to struggle,
To feel, to love, to think,
And to discover.

Oh, I wish that I only could,
If only partly,
Write eight lines about – I would! –
Nature of passion.

And sins, inequities, escapes,
Pursuits and chases,
Haphazards in a sudden haste,
Of palms and elbows.

I would bring out there her law
And her origin.
I would repeat again and more
Her name initials.

I’d spread my poems like orchards;
Where with all power
The lindens blossom side by side
In single file.

I’d put in poems roses’ breath,
A scent of spearmint,
Hay moving, meadows, carex grass,
And thunderstorm’s hint.

As long ago Chopin has placed
A living marvel
Of farms, graveyards, parks, and forests
In his etudes.

The game and torment of achieved
Triumph and torture –
A pulled resilient bowstring of
Tight bow of fortune.
1956

Translated from originally written by Boris Pasternak in Russian "Во всем мне хочется дойти до самой сути" by Alina Kireeva, 2014