We were in Georgia. You can get this land
If hell is multiplied by paradise,
Bare indigence by tenderness, and if
A hothouse serves as pedestal for ice.

And then you'll know what subtle doses of
Success and labor, duty, mountain air
Make the right mixture with the earth and sky
For man to be the way we found him there.

The Waves, by Boris Pasternak, 1890-1960.

Оригинал стихотворения:

Мы были в Грузии. Помножим
Нужду на нежность, ад на рай,
Теплицу льдам возьмем подножьем,
И мы получим этот край.

И мы поймем, в сколь тонких дозах
С землей и небом входят в смесь
Успех, и труд, и долг, и воздух,
Чтоб вышел человек, как здесь.

Борис Пастернак, 1890-1960

Sponsored by hotel Rooms.

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