«Once more the years fly out of the shadows / And like meadows of daisies they are rustling. / I dreamt today of my dog, / That was my friend in youth. Now my youth has roared out, / Like out the rotten maple beneath my window, / But I still remember the girl in white, / For whom the dog...»
«In boisterous moire dress, in boisterous moire dress / By the moonlit night avenue You walk, through my imagination, / As beyound the sea... Oh! Your dress is refined, / Your talma is sky-blue lapis, / And the sandy walk is adorned by a leafage as — / In spiderlike paws, in a jaguar fur....»
«I — am. You — will be. Between us — store of wisdom. / I drink. You thirsty. Agreement — usellessness. / Us dozens, centuries, hundred thousands years / Separate. — God does not build bridges. Please, Be! — this is my commandment. / Please, Let me pass by, with b'ated breat...»
«In midst of waves, there are the silver beads / And scraped by time paints of the white enamel… / I so like the morns which autumn breeds, / For their caress, so short and so gentle. And I do like the foam on the shore, / When it again is whitening in mire, / And, greedy, I am hiding he...»