maandag 23 maart 2009
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BY-12010 from Belarus
This Postcrosser also wrote a poem on the card, a poem from a famous Russian poet Boris Pasternak.
"There'll be noone in the house
Save for twilight. All alone,
Winter's day seen in the space that's
Made by curtains left undrawn.
Only flash-past of the wet white
Snowflake clusters, glimpsed and gone.
Only roofs and snows, and save for
Roofs and snow - no one at home.
Once more, frost will trace its patterns,
I'll be haunted one again
By my last-year's melancholy,
By that other wintertime.
Once more, I'll be troubled by an
Old, unexpiated shame,
And the icy firewoord femine
Will press on the window pane.
But the quiver of intrusion
Through those curtain folds will run
Measuring silence with your footsteps,
like the future, in you'll come.
You'll appear there in the doorway
Wearing something white and plane,
Something in the very stuff from
which the snowflakes too are sewn.
"There'll be noone in the house
Save for twilight. All alone,
Winter's day seen in the space that's
Made by curtains left undrawn.
Only flash-past of the wet white
Snowflake clusters, glimpsed and gone.
Only roofs and snows, and save for
Roofs and snow - no one at home.
Once more, frost will trace its patterns,
I'll be haunted one again
By my last-year's melancholy,
By that other wintertime.
Once more, I'll be troubled by an
Old, unexpiated shame,
And the icy firewoord femine
Will press on the window pane.
But the quiver of intrusion
Through those curtain folds will run
Measuring silence with your footsteps,
like the future, in you'll come.
You'll appear there in the doorway
Wearing something white and plane,
Something in the very stuff from
which the snowflakes too are sewn.
maandag 9 maart 2009
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