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PARTING by Boris Pasternak>

From the threshold a man looks in,
He cannot recognise his house,
Her departure was like a flight
And every where are signs of havoc.

All the rooms are in chaos;
Tears and an aching head
Prevent him from seeing
The measure of his ruin.

Since morning there has been a roaring in his ears,
Is he awake or dreaming?
Why does the thought of the sea
Keep pushing into his mind?

When the great wide world
Is hidden by the frost on the window,
The hopelessness of sorrow
Is even more like the desert of the sea.

She was as near and dear to him
In every feature
As the shores are close to the sea.
In every breaker.

As after a storm
The surf floods over the reeds,
So in his heart
Her image is submerged.

In the years of trial,
When life was inconceivable,
From the bottom of the sea the tide of destiny
Washed her up to him.

The obstacles were countless,
But she was carried by the tide
Narrowly past the hazards
To the shore.

Now she has gone away;
Unwillingly perhaps.
The parting will eat them up,
Misery will gnaw them, bones and all.

He looks around him.
At the moment of leaving
She turned everything upside down,
Flung everything out of the chest of drawers.

Till dusk he roams about
Putting back into the drawers
The scattered scraps of stuff,
The patterns used for cutting out,

And pricking himself on a needle
Still stuck in a piece of sewing,
Suddenly he sees her
And cries quietly.

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