«Orioles are in the woods, and vowels' length / In tonic verses is the single measure known. / But only once a year does nature know in strength / Duration in her meter, as in Homer's own. Caesura-like's the yawning of that day's expanse, / Ease and a labored lengthiness from morning on. / ...»
«Night, square, apothecary, lantern, / Its meaningless and pallid light. / Return a half a lifetime after – / All will remain. A scapeless rite. Then die, then have a new beginning, / And all will turn the same as ere: / Night, rippled water's frigid grinning, / Apothecary, lantern, s...»
«When learning of the tolls of war, / Of yet another battle victim, / 'Tis not his wife, nor comrades, nor / The very hero whom I pity... / Alas! Time will console the wife, / Fraternities – forget their member. / But for as long as 'tis alive, / One soul will constantly remember. / ...»
«A silver sail, the ocean loner, / Is lurking in the azure mist. / What has she lost in foreign corners? / What in her homeland did she miss? Her mast is clattering and bending / Midst whistling wind and raging wave. / Alas, she seeks no happy ending, / Nor runs from happiness away. ...»