First to thank you
for the music of your words
the lines that flow
effortlessly with all the richness
of the Russian vowels and
liquid consonants
more Italian
than our German gutterals

And then for giving us
the Russian weather
December thaws
and February days
with dripping icycles
like nature's tears
the mud of spring
the summer fields of flowers
skies that glower
with impending rain

And other kinds of weather
more internal
or personal
suggestive of the century's
intrusion on the lives
of friends
of loved ones
on your generation
ordinary folk
caught up in history
like your creation
the good Doctor Zhivago

And finally to say how
through the years
I've taken heart from words you wrote
reminding artists
writers, poets
never to lose sight
of what the work
is finally about
that even while imprisoned
so to speak
in time and history
to work at making
something of beauty
is to act on heaven's behalf
to be an envoy of eternity