Boris Pasternak, one of the most significant poets of the 20th century, saw women not simply as objects of love but as the embodiment of life, nature, and the very essence of existence. His poems about women are a complex symphony of emotions, where passion intertwines with philosophical reflections, and the mundane with the sublime. In these works, the female figure often becomes a symbol of elusive beauty, spiritual quest, and the tragic impossibility of complete union. Pasternak succeeded in conveying not only the external charm but also the inner world of his heroines, their secrets and contradictions. This collection is an attempt to gather the most vivid and heartfelt lines dedicated to women in the poet's poetry.<\/p>\n
\nFebruary. Get out the ink and weep! To write about her, the light-winged one, so that in every line, as in a fold, the breath of summer would freeze. She passed, like a dream, like spring, like the first ray through the winter gloom. And in the heart, like a sinful stone, she left a silent reproach.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nHow scary that love has no power<\/h2>\n
\nHow terrible it is that love has no power before the onslaught of cold days. And that its heavenly beauty is only an echo in the silence. Like a garden in autumn's withering, it preserves its former grace within itself. And in every gesture, in every breath, it tries to give away its love.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nA sonnet to spring, and to her alone<\/h2>\n
\nA sonnet to spring, and to her alone, whose face emerges in the mist, like a light, like a groan, that quietly warms the heart. In her eyes is the depth of heaven, in her smile is the gentle gleam of the sun. And in this fragile beauty is visible the veil of a tormented soul.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nShe came as if from another place<\/h2>\n
\nShe came, as if from another world, from a world of dreams, from a world of silence. And something new resounded in my heart, as if spring had suddenly awakened. Her movements were light and graceful, like the dance of the wind in golden foliage. And in this meeting, as if in a dark secret, the soul found oblivion in my head.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nThere is a reflection of the sunset in her eyes<\/h2>\n
\nIn her eyes is the reflection of the sunset, And sadness, and tenderness, and peace. As if the entire island, washed by the sea waves, is frozen in them. She is silent, but in this silence, confessions and the whisper of the stars are heard. And in this meeting, as in a dream, all sorrows and frost are forgotten.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nHer gait is a light roll<\/h2>\n
\nHer gait is a gentle roll across the piano keys in the night. And in every gesture\u2014a mysterious gaze, captivating the heart, like keys. She is a riddle, a mystery, a twilight, in which lost souls seek. And in this meeting, as in a wondrous marriage, they find peace, and are no longer in a hurry.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nThere's a ray of sunshine in her smile<\/h2>\n
\nIn her smile is a ray of sunshine, breaking through the clouds. And in that moment, like a key, it opens the heart, like a ray of light. She is hope, faith, and love, so necessary in this world. And in this meeting, as if anew, dreams are born, invisible.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nShe is like music, like poetry<\/h2>\n
\nShe is like music, like poetry, pouring into the heart without ceasing. And in this world full of hardships, Her love is like life, growing. She is a riddle, a mystery, a light, illuminating the path in the darkness. And in this meeting, like a vow, We find happiness, as in a dream.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nHer eyes are like two streams<\/h2>\n
\nHer eyes are like two streams, flowing into my heart without ceasing. And in this depth, as in the night, my soul yearns, exhausted. She is like the wind, free and light, that drives the clouds across the sky. And in this meeting, as if in a reflection, we find solace in her eyes.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nThere is a whole world in her silence<\/h2>\n
\nIn her silence lies a whole world, of unspoken feelings and secrets. And in this quiet, gentle ether, my soul finds its berth. She is like a rose, tender and fragile, blooming in the rays of dawn. And in this meeting, as if in a step, we find inspiration and love.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nHer breath is the whisper of herbs<\/h2>\n
\nHer breath is the whisper of grass, in fields bathed in summer sun. And in this sound, as if in an alloy, dreams merge, invisibly bright. She is like a bird, free and bold, rushing into the sky, to new heights. And in this meeting, as if in a veil, we find joy, forgetting our cares.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nShe is like an echo of old dreams<\/h2>\n
\nShe is like an echo of old dreams, returning in the silence of the night. And in this world full of shackles, Her love is like light, like peace. She is like a mystery that cannot be solved, like a book that cannot be read to the end. And in this meeting, like grace, we find solace for the heart.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nHer hands are the warmth of the earth<\/h2>\n
\nHer hands are the warmth of the earth, which gives life and inspiration. And in this touch, as if in the distance, we find joy and oblivion. She is like a river flowing to the sea, carrying within herself all the mysteries of existence. And in this meeting, as if in the vastness, we find happiness, as in paradise.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nThere is heavenly light in her eyes<\/h2>\n
\nIn her eyes is a heavenly light, Which illuminates the path in the darkness. And in this look, like a promise, We find comfort, as in a dream. She is like an angel, pure and innocent, Who descended from heaven to earth. And in this meeting, like a wondrous thing, We find love that is eternally faithful.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nHer voice is like a ringing stream<\/h2>\n
\nHer voice is like a ringing stream, flowing into my heart without ceasing. And in this sound, as if in rays of light, my soul yearns, soaring. She is like a song that resounds in the night, like the dance of the wind in golden foliage. And in this meeting, like keys, we find inspiration in her head.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Boris Pasternak, one of the most significant poets of the 20th century, saw in a woman not just an object of love, but also the embodiment of life,<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[71],"tags":[81],"class_list":["post-1052","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-stihi","tag-sborniki-stihov-izvestnyh-avtorov"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1052","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1052"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1052\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":174431,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1052\/revisions\/174431"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1052"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1052"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bukvaved.top\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1052"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}