Poem of the day-25: "Autumn" by Boris Pasternak

I have allowed my family to scatter,
All my dear ones are dispersed.
A life-long loneliness
Fills nature and my heart.

And here I am with you, in a small house.
Outside, the forest is unpeopled like a desert.
As in the song, the drives and footpaths
Are almost overgrown.

The log walls are sad,
Having only us two to gaze at.
But we never undertook to leap the barriers.
We will perish honestly.

At one o'clock we shall sit down to table,
At three we shall rise,
I with my boom, you with your embroidery.
At dawn we shan't remember
What time we stopped kissing.

Leaves, rustle and spill yourselves
Ever more splendidly, ever more recklessly,
Fill yesterday's cup of bitterness
Still more full with the pain of today.

Let devotion, desire, delight,
Be scattered in the uproar of September:
And you, go and hide in the crackling autumn,
Either be quiet or be crazy.

You fling your dress from you
As the coppice flings away its leaves.
In a dressing-gown with a silk tassel
You fall into my arms.

You are the good gift of the road to destruction
When life is more sickening than disease
And boldness the root of beauty
This is what draws us together.

From "Dr.Zhivago" by Boris Pasternak.