«Here, human voice was never known / And never will it resonate, / And gusting from the age of stone, / The wind alone knocks on the gate. / It seems to me, that I was saved / And no one else here by design, — / Because I was the first who craved / And sought to taste the deadly wine.»
«The road of the seaside garden turns dark, / The streetlamps are yellow and prim. / And I’m very calm. But don’t you remark / And talk to me of him. / My dear and loyal one, we will be friends… / Be merry, and kiss, and grow wise… / And moons will soar lightly over our heads, / ...»
«God has no mercy on gardeners and reapers / And ringing, the rains fall awry / And the mosaic of wide cloaks now shimmers / In waters, that once showed the sky. The kingdom of water holds meadows and ranges, / And streams freely sing as they play, / The plums start to burst on the long sw...»
«We’re not in the forest, no need to bellow, — / Such mockery fills me with dread, / Won’t you sing lullabies in order to mellow / My wounded conscience instead? You have many other cares, / And a wife, I realize… / And the Petersburg spring stares / Deep into my withered eyes. ...»