<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=352746" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On The Steamer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The stir of leaves, the chilly morning air <br>Were like delirium; half awake <br>Jaws clamped; the dawn beyond the Kama glared <br>Blue, as the plumage of a drake. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was a clattering of crockery, <br>A yawning steward taking stock, <br>And in the depth, as high as candlesticks, <br>Within the river, glow-worms flocked. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They hung from streets along the waterfront, <br>A scintillating string; it chimed <br>Three times; the steward with a napkin tried <br>To scratch away some candle grime. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like a grey rumour, crawling from the past, <br>A mighty epic of the reeds, <br>With ripples in the beads of street lamps, fast <br>Towards Perm the Kama ran upon a breeze. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Choking on waves, and almost drowning, but <br>Still swimming on beyond the boat <br>A star kept diving and resurfacing <br>An icon's shining light afloat. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A smell of paint mixed with the galley smells, <br>And on the Kama all along, <br>The twilight drifted, secrets gathering, <br>With not a splash it drifted on… </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A glass in hand, your pupils narrowing <br>You watched the slips of tongue perform <br>A whirling play on words, at suppertime, <br>But were not drawn into their swarm. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You called your partner to old happenings, <br>To waves of days before your day, <br>To plunge in them, a final residue <br>Of the last drop, and fade away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The stir of leaves in chilly morning air <br>Was like delirium; half awake <br>One yawned; the east beyond the Kama glared <br>Blue, as the plumage of a drake. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, like a bloodbath now the morning came, <br>A flaming flood of oil - to drown <br>The steamer's gaslights in the stateroom and <br>The waning street lamps of the town.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Boris+Pasternak">Boris Pasternak</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=352746" data-title="On The Steamer de Boris Pasternak" data-description="The stir of leaves, the chilly morning air Were like delirium; half awake Jaws clamped; the dawn beyond the Kama glared Blue, as the plumage of a drake. There was a clattering of crockery, A yawning steward taking stock, And in the depth, a..."></div> </div> </div>

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