Outside the snowstorm spins, and hides <br />The world beneath a pall. <br />Snowed under are the paper-girl, <br />The papers and the stall. <br /> <br />Quite often our experience <br />Has led us to believe <br />That snow falls out of reticence, <br />In order to deceive. <br /> <br />Concealing unrepentantly <br />And trimming you in white, <br />How often he has brought you home <br />Into the town at night! <br /> <br />While snowflakes blind and blanket out <br />The distance more and more, <br />A tipsy shadow gropes his way <br />And staggers to the door. <br /> <br />And then he enters hastily… <br />Again, for all I know, <br />Someone has something sinful to <br />Conceal in all this snow!<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/first-snow-9/
