I grew. Foul weather, dreams, forebodings <br />Were bearing me - a Ganymede - <br />Away from earth; distress was growing <br />Like wings - to spread, to hold, to lead. <br /> <br />I grew. The veil of woven sunsets <br />At dusk would cling to me and swell. <br />With wine in glasses we would gather <br />To celebrate a sad farewell, <br /> <br />And yet the eagle's clasp already <br />Refreshes forearms' heated strain. <br />The days have gone, when, love, you floated <br />Above me, harbinger of pain. <br /> <br />Do we not share the sky, the flying? <br />Now, like a swan, his death-song done, <br />Rejoice! In triumph, with the eagle <br />Shoulder to shoulder, we are one.<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-grew-foul-weather-dreams-forebodings/
