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Pardon my posting this here, rather than simply e-mailing it to you, but I can't seem to find any contact info - if it's there and I'm being dense, I apologize. Anyway, if I'm not mistaken the Russian in Apres Moi that you asked for some help with is the first stanza of this poem by Boris Pasternak:Black spring! Pick up your pen, and weeping,Of February, in sobs and ink,Write poems, while the slush in thunderIs burning in the black of spring.Through clanking wheels, through church bells ringingA hired cab will take you whereThe town has ended, where the showersAre louder still than ink and tears.Where rooks, like charred pears, from the branchesIn thousands break away, and sweepInto the melting snow, instillingDry sadness into eyes that weep.Beneath - the earth is black in puddles,The wind with croaking screeches throbs,And-the more randomly, the surerPoems are forming out of sobs.
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