My Sister Life and The Zhivago Poems

Model

✦ 31 ✦ Model O wretched Homo sapiens, Existence grinds us down. But one such year is capable Of turning time around. We lived in drought and hungering And coarsened in the fray, And no one seemed to understand: Life’s glory lasts a day. From lilied hands intoxicate, Inebriate of eyes, Through night on night of wandering My soaring spirit flies. One southern hut lay farther south Than others on that street, And, orphan-like, the wild grass Crept softly round its feet. The canvas has been hung to dry, But though a year has passed, A wicker fence, all blossom vined, Still holds the memory fast. And how could one forget indeed The swirling dust all round, And how the wind cast aster seed On burdock-covered ground. ✦ 32 ✦ Or how, through unknown hollyhocks, It led me, blind and tense, To look for you in hill and rock, By every wicker fence. I disembarked and cast an eye On puddles painted new, The rushing tide of willow groves, Where once I wrote to you. My train is leaving Moscow now And slowly gathers steam, A bacchanal of ring and crown On wayside and ravine; The wells are howling zither-like, And, raising dusty clouds, The poplar trees are shivering And hayricks wail aloud. Let life undo our closest ties, Let pride consume the will, Yet we shall perish choked inside By all our strivings still. ...