by Boris Pasternak
Things of great worth shall come to pass
By true foreknowledge and in fact,-
Names worthier than mine in fame
And words which earned me men's esteem.
Here breakers roar across the bay;
Wave follows wave unchangeably,
Their tracks, like letters traced in sand,
Erased by ebbing lines of foam.
So yet you're here at this resort.
I should have found you in this hall
At five, instead of vain small talk
I shared and wagging of my tongue.
I would have warned you, one so fair,
Mature, a woman brave and calm,
About the death in life-and bounds
No higher than the ant's low life.
Great poets, through experience,
Find words so simple and restrained
That in the end they can't do more
Than wait in silence and in awe.
In faith and kinship with real life
And with the future knit as one,
We're bound to find immortal words
Of unbelievable simplicity.
Yet keep them holy in your hearts
Or we shall not be spared at all.
Men quickly grasp the complex schemes
When simplicity's their greater need.
Last updated January 14, 2019