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December 5, 2020 03:32
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Nobel Prize | |
Like a beast in a pen, I'm cut off | |
From my friends, freedom, the sun, | |
But the hunters are gaining ground. | |
I've nowhere else to run. | |
Dark wood and the bank of a pond, | |
Trunk of a fallen tree. | |
There's no way forward, no way back. | |
It's all up with me. | |
Am I a gangster or murderer? | |
Of what crime do I stand | |
Condemned? I made the whole world weep | |
At the beauty of my land. | |
Even so, one step from my grave, | |
I believe that cruelty, spite, | |
The powers of darkness will in time | |
Be crushed by the spirit of light. | |
The beaters in a ring close in | |
With the wrong prey in view, | |
I've nobody at my right hand, | |
Nobody faithful and true. | |
And with such a noose on my throat | |
I should like for one second | |
My tears to be wiped away | |
By someone at my right hand. | |
Boris Pasternak | |
1959 | |
--- | |
Нобелевская премия | |
Я пропал, как зверь в загоне. | |
Где-то люди, воля, свет, | |
А за мною шум погони, | |
Мне наружу хода нет. | |
Тёмный лес и бе́рег пру́да, | |
Ели сваленной бревно. | |
Путь отрезан отовсюду. | |
Будь что будет, всё равно. | |
Что же сделал я за пакость, | |
Я убийца и злодей? | |
Я весь мир заставил плакать | |
Над красой земли моей. | |
Но и так, почти у гроба, | |
Верю я, придёт пора — | |
Силу подлости и злобы | |
Одолеет дух добра. | |
Борис Пастернак | |
1959 |
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