Above baths are smoking pipe
And the smoke white sides
At the exit in scarves and coats
plowed clouds.

All the heat of the soul invested yards
The snowdrifts, trail and Sledkov,
And torn tendon cold,
And hang viega languages.

rays planed, vortices sverlyat,
And the air, like a saw, sharp,
And frozen sturgeon
pollen road, white space.

Skates, logs, Christmas tree, migi,
The lights, excitement, time,
And in the sky string vyazigi
Zagnuvshayasya silence.


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Boris Pasternak
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