My Sister Life and The Zhivago Poems

Earth

✦ 149 ✦ Earth Audaciously the spring outdoors Comes bursting into Moscow homes. Moths flutter from the cupboard drawers To crawl about on summer clothes, And trunks take in their winter furs. On wooden loft and windowsill, From flowerpots and boxes there, The phlox and gillyblossoms spill; And opened rooms breathe in their fill, While attics smell of dusty air. The streets with friendly greetings hail Each bleary weak-eyed windowpane; White nights and sunsets never fail To pass the time at river lane. And from the hallway you can hear What’s taking place outdoors all day, The things that April has to say When chatting with the melting snow, For April has a thousand tales Of human life and human woe; Or dawn and dusk who linger late To gossip at the garden gate. ✦ 150 ✦ The selfsame mix of flame and dread Prevails abroad and by the hearth; The air all round has lost its head. The selfsame lacy willows wave, The same white swelling buds abound At crossroad and at window frame, In street and workshop all through town. So why do distant vistas weep? And why does compost smell so tart? But this is what my calling means: To bring the outskirts some relief, To spare the earth beyond the town The loneliness of lonely grief. And this is why in early spring My friends and I all gather round, And why our meetings are farewells, Our meager feasts a sacrament— That lamentation’s hidden rays Might warm the chill that marks our days. ...