‘March’ by Boris Pasternak translated by Sasha Dugdale

March The sun has broken a sudden sweat And the ditch gushes febrile, unstaunched. Spring, like the stocky dairymaid, Holds in its hands the foaming warmth. How wan the snow; it has the green sickness Thin blue twigs are its feeble veins But life comes steaming from the cowshed And the pitchfork plumps the healthy hay. These days, these days and nights! Midday, and the … Continue reading ‘March’ by Boris Pasternak translated by Sasha Dugdale