February. Take ink and weep, <br />write February as you’re sobbing, <br />while black Spring burns deep <br />through the slush and throbbing. <br /> <br /> <br />Take a cab. For a clutch of copecks, <br />through bell-towers’ and wheel noise, <br />go where the rain-storm’s din breaks, <br />greater than crying or ink employs. <br /> <br /> <br />Where rooks in thousands falling, <br />like charred pears from the skies, <br />drop down into puddles, bringing <br />cold grief to the depths of eyes. <br /> <br /> <br />Below, the black shows through, <br />and the wind’s furrowed with cries: <br />the more freely, the more truly <br />then, sobbing verse is realised.<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/february-take-ink-and-weep/
