The swifts have no strength any more to retain, <br />To check the light-blue evening coolness. <br />It burst from their breasts, from their throats, under strain <br />And flows out of hand in its fullness. <br /> <br />There is not a thing that could stop them, up there, <br />From shrilly, exultedly crying, <br />Exclaiming: The earth has made off to nowhere, <br />O look! It has vanished - O triumph! <br /> <br />As cauldrons of water are ended in steam <br />When quarrelsome bubbles are rising - <br />Look - there is no room for the earth - from the seam <br />Of the gorge to the drawn-out horizon!<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-swifts-1/
