«He was born painlessly, in bless, / But we are born in awful torments, / Yet, even heavens will be stressed, / When heard the song that now floats. Not a sweet voice, but fierce cries / Will cut the womb, so dark and heavy: / The sightless embryo denies / His coffin-like ways for beha...»
«What if my poems, bright or gloom, / Just at beginning end? / They are all happy: brides and grooms, / One who was dying — dead. With clear words the novels done, / End with big dots, at least; / One knows who’s a wid., Arman, / Whose daughter Lisa is. But there is not a chance to...»
«Through the rising tea’s steam I see Fujiyama — / The golden mount in the yellow skies, / How could be nature by a saucer summoned! / But the gentle ripples brought here a new upraise. / Look: the gossamers of the silver clouds / Are pierced by a sun the size of an ant’s eyes, / T...»
«I see: at the window sited, / Mother declines to her child, / And trying to catch his feet idly, / He rose them, putting aside. / His day is the long one and golden, / His nights — like without an end... / And a year — like a wonderful model, / Of the future long years’ train. ...»