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Monday, September 6, 2004


Winter Night By: Boris Pasternak

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

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