Boris Pasternak

(10 February 1890 - 30 May 1960 / Moscow)

‘like A Brazier’s Bronze Cinders,’ - Poem by Boris Pasternak

Like a brazier’s bronze cinders,
the sleepy garden’s beetles flowing.
Level with me, and my candle,
a flowering world is hanging.

As if into unprecedented faith,
I cross into this night,
where the poplar’s beaten grey
veils the moon’s rim from sight.

Where the pond’s an open secret,
where apple-trees whisper of waves,
where the garden hanging on piles,
holds the sky before its face.

Comments about ‘like A Brazier’s Bronze Cinders,’ by Boris Pasternak

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 3, 2010

[Hata Bildir]