Maxioms by Boris Pasternak
At the moment of childbirth, every woman has the same aura of isolation, as though she were abandoned, alone.
At the moment of childbirth, every woman has the same aura of isolation, as though she were abandoned, alone.
Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of read more
Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of two nightingales, the sweet pea that has run wild, Creation's tears in shoulder blades.
