Poetic Tuesday: Boris Pasternak, Winter Night

Posted on by

It has been a good while since we decided to broaden our for­mat a lit­tle and intro­duce some new excit­ing series for our blog. So today we are intro­duc­ing our Poetic Tues­day: every Tues­day we will (try to) post a remark­able Soviet poem, most prob­a­bly on a fort­nightly basis.  This par­tic­u­lar poem, Win­ter Night by Nobel Prize for Lit­er­a­ture of 1958, the author of Doc­tor Zhivago, Boris Paster­nak has been hand picked to open this col­lec­tion. We thank Andrey Kneller for the trans­la­tion. The best way to enjoy it, we sug­gest, is by click­ing Read More.., then play the youtube video and when the words begin, read the poem. The video fea­tures Win­ter Night read in Russ­ian by Boris Vetrov, vio­lin by Secret Gar­den. It is truly mov­ing — we hope you enjoy it as much as we do. Thanks for being such a won­der­ful audi­ence — you are a plea­sure to write for.

The bliz­zards all across the earth
Have swept uncurbed
The can­dle burned upon the desk
The can­dle burned

As in the sum­mer, moths are drawn
Towards the flame
The pale snowflakes soared
Towards the pane

Upon the glass, bright snowy rings
And streaks were churned
The can­dle burned upon the desk
The can­dle burned

On the illu­mined ceil­ing
Shad­ows swayed
A cross of arms, a cross of legs
A cross of fate

Two boots fell down on the floor
With crash­ing sound
And from the crown tears of wax
Dripped on the gown

And noth­ing in the snowy haze
Could be dis­cerned
The can­dle burned upon the desk
The can­dle burned

A gen­tle draft blew on the flame,
And in temp­ta­tion,
It raised two wings into a cross
As if an angel

It swept and swept all through the month
This fre­quently occurred
The can­dle burned upon the desk
The can­dle burned

39657654 pasternak 319x500 Poetic Tuesday: Boris Pasternak, Winter Night

Boris Paster­nak


Related posts:

  1. Best of Win­ter 2009  –  2010

  • Pingback: Tweets that mention Poetic Tuesday: Boris Pasternak, Winter Night | Real USSR -- Topsy.com

  • Valiant

    Con­grat­u­la­tions for this new feature!

    Salu­dos from Spain

    Valiant

  • Valiant

    Con­grat­u­la­tions for this new feature!

    Thanks for your hard work in bring­ing to the world the “Real Mother Russia”.

    Salu­dos from Spain

    Valiant

    • Eva For­ever

      Thank you very much for your feed­back, it means a lot to us.

  • the can­dle burned

    a sin­cere effort to con­vey the lyrics, but the form and the rythms are so far from the original

    • Eva For­ever

      Thank you for your feed­back!
      This is going to be a reg­u­lar fea­ture, so feel free to sug­gest any trans­la­tions of the Soviet Poetry — be it your own or of anybody.

  • Pingback: Basics about Cashmere socks | Pure Cashmere blog

  • Given­tal

    Boris Pasternak

    WINTER NIGHT

    And far and near bliz­zards raced,
    To every end­land.
    A burn­ing can­dle lit the place,
    A burn­ing candle.

    As to a swarm of sum­mer moth
    Are flame and glow,
    The win­dow attrac­tive was
    To flakes of snow.

    Grew on the pane frost-molded quilt
    Of arcs and angles.
    A can­dle lit the desk and quill,
    A burn­ing candle.

    On the enlight­ened ceil­ing easel
    Fell shapes retrac­ing
    Entan­gled arms, entan­gled knees,
    Fates interlacing.

    And thud­dingly two lit­tle shoes
    Were drop­ping down,
    And wax in tears, heat-melted lose,
    Dripped on the gown.

    And melted all in sil­ver gloom,
    Obscure and swirling.
    A burn­ing can­dle lit the room,
    A can­dle burning.

    The light would swing in draft, and change,
    And pas­sions stormy
    Spread their wings, like an archangel,
    Cruciformly.

    That win­ter, bliz­zards held the pace,
    And calls return­ing,
    A burn­ing can­dle lit the place,
    A can­dle burning.

    Trans­la­tion by Alexan­der Givental