---

Boris Pasternak - The Swifts (1)
Work rating: Low

The swifts have no strength any more to retain, 
To check the light-blue evening coolness. 
It burst from their breasts, from their throats, under strain 
And flows out of hand in its fullness. 

There is not a thing that could stop them, up there, 
From shrilly, exultedly crying, 
Exclaiming: The earth has made off to nowhere, 
O look! It has vanished - O triumph! 

As cauldrons of water are ended in steam 
When quarrelsome bubbles are rising - 
Look - there is no room for the earth - from the seam 
Of the gorge to the drawn-out horizon!
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.