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Boris Pasternak - Storm, Momentary, Forever
Work rating: Low

Then summer said goodbye

to the station. Lifting its cap,

the thunder took souvenirs,

hundreds of shots on the fly.

 
The lilac went black. And that

instant, gathering whole armfuls

of lightning, the far clearing lit

the white station-master’s shack.

 
And when the whole roof ran

with a fierce torrent of malice,

and, like charcoal onto a sketch,

the rain crashed down on the fence,

 
consciousness started to flash,

here, it seems, flooding in play

even the corners of mind

where it’s always bright as day.
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