The air is full of after-thunder freshness, <br />And everything rejoices and revives. <br />With the whole outburst of its purple clusters <br />The lilac drinks the air of paradise. <br /> <br />The gutters overflow; the change of weather <br />Makes all you see appear alive and new. <br />Meanwhile the shades of sky are growing lighter, <br />Beyond the blackest cloud the height is blue. <br /> <br />An artist's hand, with mastery still greater <br />Wipes dirt and dust off objects in his path. <br />Reality and life, the past and present, <br />Emerge transformed out of his colour-bath. <br /> <br />The memory of over half a lifetime <br />Like swiftly passing thunder dies away. <br />The century is no more under wardship: <br />High time to let the future have its say. <br /> <br />It is not revolutions and upheavals <br />That clear the road to new and better days, <br />But revelations, lavishness and torments <br />Of someone's soul, inspired and ablaze.<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-the-storm-22/
