«When you read these anguished lines / Where from heart’s roaring blaze the flames issue, / And passion’s fatal flood swells and climbs, / Do they speak never a word to you? How to credit it! In the steppe, that night, / When through midnight’s fog premature dawn, / Translucent, love...»
«How sad! The alley’s end / Is lost once more in snow, / Once more silver snakes extend / Their trails through its icy glow. In the sky not a streak of blue, / The steppe is smooth and white, / A single crow struggles through, / Beating against the stormy light. My soul is like frozen...»
«"How deep and dark the delirium! / How clouded the moonlit heights! / To have touched the violin so long / yet not know the strings in the light! Who wants us now? Who lights / two faded melancholy faces?"... / And the bow felt someone suddenly / seize them, and bring them together. "O...»
«Among the worlds, one bright sphere, / one star’s name alone I utter, / it’s not that to me she’s dear, / it’s that I pine among the others. And when I’m torn with doubt, / to her alone I pray for insight, / it’s not that she shines out, / but that with her I need no light.»