The snow will bury roads
And houses to the roofs.
If I go to stretch my legs,
I see you at my door.
In a light fall coat, alone,
Without overshoes or hat,
You try to keep your calm,
Sucking your snow-wet lips.
The trees and fences draw
Far back into the gloom.
You watch the street, alone
Within the falling snow.
Your scarf hangs wet with snow,
Your collar and your sleeves,
And stars of melted flakes
Gleam dewy in your hair.
A shining wisp of hair
Lights suddenly your face,
Your figure in the cold,
In that thin overcoat.
Flakes gleam beneath your lashes
And anguish in your eyes.
You were created whole,
A seamless shape of love.
It seems as if your image
Drawn fine with pointed steel
Is now in silver lines
Cut deep within my heart.
Forever there you live
In your true humility.
It does not really matter
If the world is hard as stone.
I feel I am your double,
Like you outside, in dark.
I cannot draw the line
Dividing you from me.
For who are we, and whence,
If their idle talk alone
Lives long in aftertime
When we no longer live?
Boris Pasternak
