Reply to "Poems of Boris Pasternak"

"The Wind"


I am no more, but you're alive.
And the wind with plaint and wailing
Sets the woods and villa swaying.
It rocks not only single pines
But all the trees in joint array
And the remote, unbounded skyline -
Like wooden hulls of frigates riding
On the broad surface of the bay.
And this - not out of waywardness,
Nor in a fit of fury blind,
But in life's anguish to seek out
Words to compose your lullaby.

Boris Pasternak