«1 Tarde oscura. / Nieve blanca. / ¡Hace viento, mucho viento! / Nadie se sostiene en pie. / ¡Viento, viento! / ¡Sobre todo el santo mundo! El viento riza / La nieve blanca. / Bajo la nieve – el hielo. / Resbaladizo. ¡Qué penoso! / Resbalan todos – / ¡Ah, pobrecitos! ...»
«I splashed some colours from a tumbler / and smeared the drab world with emotion. / I charted on a dish of jelly / the jutting cheekbones of the ocean. / Upon the scales of a tin salmon / I read the calls of lips yet mute. / And you, / could you have played a noc...»
«Windows split the city’s great hell / into tiny hellets — vamps with lamps. / The cars, red devils, exploded their yells / right in your ear, rearing on their rumps. And there, under the signboard with herrings from Kerch / an old man, knocked down, stooping to search / for his specs,...»
«Now, listen! / Surely, if the stars arc lit / there’s somebody who longs for them, / somebody who wants them to shine a bit, / somebody who calls it, that wee speck of spittle, a gem? And overridden / by blizzards of midday dust, / tears in to God, / afraid that it’s too late, / ...»