«I have the present of a body – what should I do with it / so unique it is and so much mine? For the quiet joy of breathing and of being alive, / tell me, whom have I to thank? I am the gardener and the flower, / in the dungeon of the world I am not alone. On the glass of eternity has alre...»
«Ik kreeg een lichaam, maar te leen? / Het is zo een, van mij alleen. Wie dank ik voor de levensvreugd / te ademen in stille deugd? De bloem en tuinman, levenslang, / nooit eenzaam in dit dwanggevang. Het eeuwig glas droeg reeds mijn vocht, / de warmte van mijn ademtocht. Er staat een tek...»
«We live, not feeling the country beneath us, / Our speech inaudible ten steps away, / But where they're up to half a conversation — / They'll speak of the Kremlin mountain man. His thick fingers are fat like worms, / And his words certain as pound weights. / His cockroach whiskers laugh...»
«An inexpressible sadness / Opened two huge eyes; / The flower-vase woke up / Sprinkling its crystal light. The whole room was drunk / With weariness — sweet medicine! / So diminutive a kingdom / To swallow up so much sleep. A little red wine, / A little sunlit may, / And — brea...»