Peredelkino

Just outside of Moscow’s circular freeway called the “Bolshoye Keltso” is the village of Peredelkino. It can be reached by crossing the Big Ring on the Minsk Shosse in the Southwest section of Moscow. Here poets of the 19th and 20th century gathered to write and share creative ideas. One of the most famous modern day poets was Boris Pasternak (1890-1960). Pasternak also wrote the epic novel “Dr. Zhivago” which was partly biographical. Pasternak’s poems are very difficult to translate from Russian to English due to the fact that the Russian words and phrases he used had very deep meanings and had no English equivalents. Russians are exposed to the poems at an early age and learn to interpret the poetry in terms of what they see and feel in their environment. Thus, it is difficult for a foreigner to understand the poem

One of my favorite Pasternak poems is “Winter Night”.

It swept, it swept on all the earth At every turning, A candle on the table flared A candle, burning.	Like swarms of midges to a flame In summer weather, Snowflakes flew up toward the pane In flocks together.
Snow moulded arrows, rings and stars The pane adorning A candle on the table shone A candle, burning.	Entangled shadows spread across The flickered ceiling, Entangled arms, entangled legs, And doom , and feeling.
And with a thud against the floor Two shoes came falling, And drops of molten candle wax like tears were rolling.	And all was lost in snowy mist, Grey-white and blurring, A candle on the table stood, A candle, burning.
The flame was trembling in the draft; Heat of temptation, It lifted up two crossing wings As of an angel.	All February the snow-storm swept, Each time returning. A candle on the table wept, A candle, burning.