Here you will find the Poem After the Interval of poet Boris Pasternak
About three months ago, when first Upon our open, unprotected And freezing garden snowstorms burst In sudden fury, I reflected That I would shut myself away And in seclusion write a section Of winter poems, day by day, To supplement my spring collection. But nonsense piled up mountain-high, Like snow-drifts hindering and stifling And half the winter had gone by, Against all hopes, in petty trifling. I understood, alas, too late Why winter-while the snow was falling, Piercing the darkness with its flakes- From outside at my house was calling; And while with numb white-frozen lips It whispered, urging me to hurry, I sharpened pencils, played with clips, Made feeble jokes and did not worry. While at my desk I dawdled on By lamp-light on an early morning, The winter had appeared and gone- A wasted and unheeded warning.
