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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=352758" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Spring</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=352758" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">How many sticky buds, candle ends<br>sprout from the branches! Steaming<br>April. Puberty sweats from the park,<br>and the forest’s blatantly gleaming.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=352758" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A noose of feathered throats grips<br>the wood’s larynx, a lassoed steer,<br>netted, like a gladiatorial organ,<br>it groans steel-piped sonatas here.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=352758" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Poetry! Be a Greek sponge with suckers,<br>among green stickiness drenched,<br>I’ll consent, by the sopping wood<br>of a green-stained garden bench.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=352758" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Grow sumptuous pleats and flounces,<br>suck up the gullies and clouds,<br>Poetry, tonight, I’ll squeeze you out<br>to make the parched sheets flower.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Boris+Pasternak">Boris Pasternak</a></strong></div>

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