There will be nobody at home
In twilight on a winter day
By curtains framed. And all alone;
Through windows seen an empty space.
Only pale flakes caught by glimpses,
Flashes falling, wet and white.
Only roofs and snowy traces,
Roofs and snow – no one in sight.
The king of frost will show his crown,
I’ll be conquered here again
Haunted by evaporating power,
Taken by my memories regained.
And wood will press on windowpanes
With icy famine, strange and heavy,
Once more, of visions still ashamed
I’ll think of other wintertimes.. So dreary.
But the quiver of your shadow
Will be present near my door,
Far-off footsteps will be measured
By the silence of the dawn.
You’ll appear in the entrance
Clothed in snow, bright and plain,
Sewn somehow by the radiance
Out of which snowflakes are made.
Boris Pasternak, ‘One Winter Day' (1931)