B. Pasternak

Shakespeare

A carrier’s yard; in the ledges, afloat
Felonious Tower rises. Then, clear -
The tinkling of the horseshoes, the mournful and cold
Hoarse chimes of Westminster emerge from the air.

The tight streets; the walls that store up their stale
Damp smell like the hop sprouts that dwell on the porches.
Like soot they are sullen and revel like ale,
Like London they are chilled, like a pace they are tortuous

The snow had sluggishly fallen and bent.
The doors were locked up when it, sleepy and flabby,
Like a slipped-down band from an abdomen, went
To fall down heavily to fill up an abbey.

The window is framed by the leaden thin rims
With the grains of blue mica -”It depends on the weather.
However...However let’s nap, being free.
However - cash down! Bring water, hairdresser!”

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