Friday, June 5, 2015

Boris Pasternak - Hamlet


Noises ebbed. I entered the stage door.          
Leaning up against the door jamb, still
I attempt to piece from distant echoes,
What the future has in store for me.
I am scrutinized by nightly darkness
With a thousand binoculars to see.
Only if you’re willing, Abba Father,                    
Take this cup of suffering from me.                    
I am fond of your persistent plot line,               
And quite willing to take on the role.
But another drama is unfolding,                                           
And this time I wish to be let go.
But the plot is thought through and predestined,
And the journey end is firmly sealed.
I’m alone, all drowned in Phariseeism.
Life is not a stroll across a field.

Translated by Dina Belyayeva