Noble Literature Prize winner Boris Pasternák was one of the most significant Russian poets of all time. We will briefly talk about his life and oeuvre and hear a translation of his poem «The Only Days» published 1957. *** The Only Days by Boris Pasternák (1890-1960) Throughout the many winters I do hold The memory about the solstice days, And each of them was unrepeatable And it repeated countless times and ways. And soon these days have formed the whole parade While stacking with each other bit by bit — The only days when, seems like, in a way, To us the time itself has just stood still. I do remember all of them by heart: The winter is approaching to its midst, The roads get wet, the roofs are dripping hard, And sun is basking on the ice floe tip. And loving ones, like in a waking dream, Stretch to each other faster than before, And nesting boxes up there in the trees Are sweating from the overwhelming warmth. And sleepy clocks are lazy once again To somehow toss and turn along its face, And longer than a century lasts the day, And there is no end for the embrace. 1957