One of the five I bought--these valuable LPs are selling at 99 cents each!--was the original music from David Lean's Dr. Zhivago. After reaching home, I promptly played that while I worked.
But, I couldn't do anything constructive while Lara's Theme was filling the room--I was simultaneously transported back in time when I was a teenager, which was when I read Dr. Zhivago. It was during my "Russophile" days. I recalled skipping through the lines because, well, they were too heavy and/or abstract for my teeny teenage brain. And, thus, my decision to re-read Dr. Zhivago over the spring break.
Zhivago and Pasternak have been haunting me since, and then I read this essay today. So, I put my office hours to use (no students!) by reading a few of Pasternak's poems.
The following one fits in well with the weather today--the sun is shining brightly after rains. Metaphorically as well, as I feel my internal storms clearing, even if only temporarily.
After the Storm
The air is full of after-thunder freshness,
And everything rejoices and revives.
With the whole outburst of its purple clusters
The lilac drinks the air of paradise.
The gutters overflow; the change of weather
Makes all you see appear alive and new.
Meanwhile the shades of sky are growing lighter,
Beyond the blackest cloud the height is blue.
An artist's hand, with mastery still greater
Wipes dirt and dust off objects in his path.
Reality and life, the past and present,
Emerge transformed out of his colour-bath.
The memory of over half a lifetime
Like swiftly passing thunder dies away.
The century is no more under wardship:
High time to let the future have its say.
It is not revolutions and upheavals
That clear the road to new and better days,
But revelations, lavishness and torments
Of someone's soul, inspired and ablaze.
1958
Translated by Lydia Pasternak Slater 
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