---

Boris Pasternak - I grew. Foul weather, dreams, forebodings.
Work rating: Low

I grew. Foul weather, dreams, forebodings 
Were bearing me - a Ganymede - 
Away from earth; distress was growing 
Like wings - to spread, to hold, to lead. 

I grew. The veil of woven sunsets 
At dusk would cling to me and swell. 
With wine in glasses we would gather 
To celebrate a sad farewell, 

And yet the eagle`s clasp already 
Refreshes forearms` heated strain. 
The days have gone, when, love, you floated 
Above me, harbinger of pain. 

Do we not share the sky, the flying? 
Now, like a swan, his death-song done, 
Rejoice! In triumph, with the eagle 
Shoulder to shoulder, we are one.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.