‘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, … Continue reading ‘March’ by Boris Pasternak translated by Sasha Dugdale

‘February’ by Boris Pasternak translated by Sasha Dugdale

    February.  Get out the ink and weep! Sob in February, sob and sing While the wet snow rumbles in the street And burns with the black spring.   Take a cab. For a coin Be carried through church bells, the chirp of tyres To a place where the torrential rain Is louder still than ink or tears   Where, like charred pears A … Continue reading ‘February’ by Boris Pasternak translated by Sasha Dugdale