Boris Pasternak

I grew. Like Ganymede – the Trojan,
I was by storms and fancies hauled.
Like wings, my hardships were a-grown
And separated me from soil.

I grew. And fell in soft embraces
Of those evening parties’ veil, 
With wine, light-play in grievous glasses
And farewell…  and farewell.

I grew. And burning of a shoulder
Cools in the eagle’s strong embrace.
No days when, like a foregoer,
My love was nearing in space. 

But, aren’t we on the same blessed heavens?
And that’s the sweetness of the height,
That you, a self-interred swan, once,
Are now with the eagle in flight.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, May, 2001