Snowing on, snowing on.
On a windowsill, the flower
Of geranium's reaching out for
Starlets of the snow beyond.
Snowing on and all’s in chaos,
All's engaged into a twirl:
Wooden footsteps of back stairs
And a snowbound crossroad turn.
Snowing on, snowing on.
Like instead of snowflake starlets,
Vault of heaven in a darned coat
Slowly squeezes in alow.
Like the chap who lives atop,
An odd fellow from the attic,
Stealthily, like playing hide-seek,
Heaven crouches from the loft.
Inasmuch as life can’t wait.
Look around, and here’s a yuletide;
Just a break as short as few nights,
And a New Year is ahead...
Boris Pasternak in the translation of V. Chetin
