My last entry didn’t give me an opportunity to post some pictures taken this past weekend at Lena’s dacha, nor to capture the beauties of Siberian spring. Here are a few images to help you imagine how the world around Tomsk looks right now, and my translation of one of Pasternak’s many spring-related poems, for good measure. Enjoy!
By Boris Pasternak
Life is my sister, and today in floods
She let spring rain loose over everyone.
Behind their monocles, the lofty, peevish
Folks hiss in dismay like snakes in oats.
No doubt the elders have their reasons for this,
Undoubtedly much sounder than your own,
That in the thunder eyes and lawns turn violet,
And moist mignonette scent drifts on the horizon.
That in May, when you read on the train
The timetable for the Kamishyn Branch Line,
It seems more grand to you than holy scriptures
And railway seats worn black with storms and grime.
That as the brakes, barking sharp warnings, drop
On villagers in some backwater town
We gaze up from our train beds—not my stop—
And the sun gives me his sympathies as he lies down.
And once poured forth, the third bell floats away,
Constant apologies: “Sorry…not here.”
The scorched night burns under the shutters
And from the steps, the steppe falls towards the stars.
Winking and twinkling, but someone sleeps sweetly
Somewhere, as, like a mirage, my love sleeps,
And my heart pours out onto every platform
And scatters train car doors across the steppes.
They sent me to Siberia! 