«Yes, I dreamt before our parting / I’d be at your wedding feast. / At the porch — and this my dreaming — / You’re the bride; I’m begging beast. Let it happen as I dreamt it, / I beseech you, soothe my qualms — / As you exit, show me pity, / Don’t dismiss me with your alms»
«Once there was an anarchist, / Beard and cheeks he died — so cocky. / Mädchen he’d in Terijoki. / Sadist too — you get the gist. Round his neck the wrinkles clustered / Forming there a crimson shawl. / Lots he ate, with gloves he flustered — / In a word he did it all. At a pa...»
«Oh yes, I know the master never / His work of digging graves can cease, / And yet the sky still gleams as ever / Above eternal Moscow’s peace. And there, where death, with black keys clanging, / Was knocking in the yards so mean, / Today, from mountains overhanging / The noisy, cheerf...»
«Oh, one will take a direct path, / Another will meander / And hanker for his father’s hearth / Where once he met philander. / But trouble follows all my trails, / Not straight, nor circles treading, / Like engines going off the rails / To nowhere, never, heading.»