There'll be no one in the house <br />Save for twilight. All alone, <br />Winter's day seen in the space that's <br />Made by curtains left undrawn. <br /> <br />Only flash-past of the wet white <br />Snowflake clusters, glimpsed and gone. <br />Only roofs and snow, and save for <br />Roofs and snow-no one at home. <br /> <br />Once more, frost will trace its patterns, <br />I'll be haunted once again <br />By my last year's melancholy, <br />By that other wintertime. <br /> <br />Once more, I'll be troubled by an <br />Old unexpiated shame, <br />And the icy firewood famine <br />Will press on the window-pane. <br /> <br />But the quiver of intrusion <br />Through those curtains folds will run. <br />Measuring silence with your footsteps, <br />Like the future, in you'll come. <br /> <br />You'll appear there in the doorway <br />Wearing something white and plain, <br />Something in the very stuff from <br />Which the snowflakes too are sewn.<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-ll-be-no-one-in-the-house/
