Wintry Night, Англ. пер. стиха Б. Пастернака
The world seemed turning.
A candle’s burning on the bench
A candle’s burning.
As in the summer swarms of moths
Fly to the flame,
The snowflakes flocked, caught by the frost,
To window pane.
The blizzard drew on windows sketch:
Rings, arrows swirling.
A candle’s burning on the bench,
A candle’s burning.
On ceiling lit with feeble specks
Were shadows tossing,
The cross of hands, the cross of legs,
The fortune’s crossing.
Fell to the floor the booty-shoes
And tapped the flooring.
And wax like tears on the dress
Continued falling.
And things had vanished in snow drench -
All grey and hurling,
A candle’s burning on the bench,
A candle’s burning.
A corner draft on candle blew;
The fire of seduction
Rose up, the angel’s wings upflew,
In cross conjunction.
Snow held whole month its frosty clench.
At times returning,
A candle’s burning on the bench,
A candle’s burning.
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