Doctor Zhivago (97 page)

And to creativity, and to working wonders.
"

It snowed and snowed, the whole world over,

Snow swept the world from end to end.

A candle burned on the table;

A candle burned.

As during summer midges swarm

To beat their wings against a flame,

Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed

To beat against the windowpane.

The blizzard sculptured on the glass

Designs of arrows and of whorls.

A candle burned on the table;

A candle burned.

Distorted shadows fell

Upon the lighted ceiling:

Shadows of crossed arms, of crossed legs—

Of crossed destiny.

Two tiny shoes fell to the floor

And thudded.

A candle on a nightstand shed wax tears

Upon a dress.

All things vanished within

The snowy murk—white, hoary.

A candle burned on the table;

A candle burned.

A corner draft fluttered the flame

And the white fever of temptation

Upswept its angel wings that cast

A cruciform shadow.

It snowed hard throughout the month

Of February, and almost constantly

A candle burned on the table;

A candle burned.

The man is staring across the threshold

And cannot recognize his home.

Her going had been like a flight.

Havoc has left its traces everywhere.

Chaos prevails in all the rooms.

He cannot judge the devastation

Because his eyes are blurred with tears,

Because his head is pounding.

Ever since morning his ears have been ringing.

Is he awake or having a bad dream?

And why do thoughts about the sea

Persist in coming to his mind?

When one no longer sees the day

Because of hoarfrost on the panes

The hopelessness of grief redoubles

Its likeness to the sea
'
s vast desert.

He drew her every trait to him

Even as the sea draws near it

Each of the many littorals

Throughout the stretch of its incoming tide.

Even as reeds go down beneath

The rough seas following a storm

So every line of her had gone

To the bottom of his soul.

In years of hardships, in the days

Of an unthinkable existence

She had been cast up from the depths

By a high wave of destiny.

Amid innumerable perils,

Avoiding every reef and shoal

The wave had borne her on and on

And brought her close.

And now, this flight of hers.

Perhaps It had been forced upon her.

This parting will consume them both

And grief gnaw clean their bones.

His eyes take in the whole scene.

At the moment of her going

She had upset the contents of

Every compartment in her dresser.

He paces aimlessly and till dark comes

Keeps putting back inside a drawer

The scattered scraps of cloth,

The crumpled sample patterns.

And having run into his hand

A needle left in some unfinished sewing

He suddenly sees all of her.

And falls to sobbing. Softly.

The snow will bury roads,

Will cover the roofs deeply.

If I step out to stretch my legs

I will see you from the door.

Alone, in a fall coat,

No hat and no snow boots;

You are trying to be calm,

Nibbling your snow-wet lips.

The distant trees and fences

Recede into the murk.

You stand at the corner

Alone in the midst of the falling snow.

Water runs down your scarf,

Inside your sleeves, your collar,

And melted snow sparkles

In dewdrops on your hair.

And a flaxen strand of it

Lights up your face, your scarf,

Your bravely erect figure,

That wretched coat of yours.

Snow melts upon your lashes.

Sadness is in your eyes.

And all of you seems fashioned

Out of a single piece.

It is as if your image

Were being etched forever

With burin and strong acid

Upon my very heart.

Nor can your submissive features

Ever be burnished off.

And so, what does it matter

If the world is stonyhearted?

And so, this night is doubling itself

With all its murk and snow

And I cannot draw a line

Dividing you and me.

For who are we, and where from,

If after all these years

Gossip alone still lives on

While we no longer live?

It was wintertime.

The wind blew from the plain

And the infant was cold

In the cave on the slope of a knoll.

The breath of an ox served to warm Him.

The cattle were huddling

Within the cave.

Warmth hovered in a mist over the manger.

Up on a cliff shepherds shook from their sheepskins

The straws from their pallets

And stray grains of millet

And sleepily stared into the midnight distance.

Far off were fields covered over with snow,

And a graveyard, and gravestones and fences,

A cart with its shafts deep in a snowdrift

And, over the graveyard, a star-studded sky.

And seemingly near yet unseen until then,

Its light more timorous than that of a tallow-dip

Set in the window of some watchman
'
s hut,

A star glimmered over the road to Bethlehem.

Now it looked like a hayrick blazing

Off to one side from heaven and God;

Like the reflection of an arsonous fire,

Like a farmstead in flames on a threshing floor burning.

It reared in the sky like a fiery stack

Of straw, of hay,

In the midst of a Creation startled, astounded

By this new Star.

An increasing redness that was like a portent

Was glowing above it.

And three stargazers heeded, and hasted

To answer the call of these unwonted lights.

Gift-laden camels plodded behind them,

And comparisoned asses, each one smaller and smaller,

Were daintily, cautiously descending a hill.

And all of the things that were to come after

Sprang up in the distance as a strange prevision:

All the thoughts of the ages, all the dreams, all the worlds,

All the future of galleries and of museums,

All the pranks of goblins, all the works of the workers of miracles,

All the yule trees on earth, all the dreams of small children,

All the warm glow of tremulous candles, all chains,

All the magnificence of brightly hued tinsel.…

(Ever more cruel, more raging, the wind blew from the plain.)

…All rosy-cheeked apples, all the blown-glass gold globes.

Part of the pond was screened by alders

But, beyond rook nests among the treetops,

Part could be seen clearly from the brink of the cliff.

The shepherds could mark well the camels and asses

Threading their way at the edge of the milldam.

"
Let us go with all others and worship the miracle,
"

Said they, and muffled their sheepskins about them.

Plowing through snow made their bodies feel warm.

Tracks of bare feet, glinting like mica,

Led over the bright plain and beyond the inn
'
s hut,

And the dogs sighting these tracks by the Stars
'
light

Growled at them as if at a candle-end
'
s flame.

The frosty night was like a fairy tale,

And some beings from the snow-crushed mountain ridge

Were mingling constantly, unseen, with all the others.

The dogs were wavering, looking back in terror,

And, in dire foreboding, cringed close to a young shepherd.

Through the same countryside, over the same highway

Some angels walked among the throng of mortals.

Their incorporeality made them invisible

Yet each step they took left the print of a foot.

Day was breaking. The trunks of the cedars stood out.

A horde of men milled by the stone at the cave
'
s mouth.

"
Who are you?
"
Mary asked them.

"
We are from a shepherd tribe, and envoys of heaven.

We have come to sing praises to both of you.
"

"
You cannot all enter. Bide a while here.
"