You need to get over parsnips. Not like measles or flu, not for the sake of immunity, but because they are sick with a lofty idea, suffering from the inability to fully comprehend, comparing their strengths and capabilities with the strengths and capabilities of someone who has become, albeit temporarily, a discovery, through whose eyes you suddenly looked at the world and was surprised by its integrity, brightness, unusualness, its high tragedy. Then it passes, like any disease eventually passes, but a trace remains. The reserve of poetic energy of this poet, as well as any great poet, is so great that a person who has read Pasternak’s poems can no longer look at the world the way he looked before him, understand the world the way he understood it before him. But this will happen later, over the years, and in my youth - a half-empty tram, a volume from the "Poet's Library", a whisper, because you cannot read these poems in silence, you must hear them in order to see them, complete detachment from the grinding and knocking of wheels, the rattling of glass , shocks and shaking. And tears...A. Filippov (http://www.litera.ru:8080/stixiya/articles/274.html)