Boris Pasternak

Here you will find thePoemHopsof poet Boris Pasternak

Hops

Beneath the willow wound round with ivy we take cover from the worst of the storm, with a greatcoat round our shoulders and my hands around your waist. I've got it wrong. That isn't ivy entwined in the bushes round the wood, but hops. You intoxicate me! Let's spread the greatcoat on the ground.