«Amidst a smoking desolation, / The worker, fist raised threateningly, / In fear and angry desperation / Confronts his cunning enemy. While, trusting to a crowd of feckless / Hands to guard the wealth he makes, / As stubborn as a stone, but reckless, / The bourgeois rages, too, and shake...»
«Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita.1 “I, I, I.” What a strange word he’s saying! / That man there — can he really be “I”? / Such a creature my mother watched playing — / Ashen skin, and the hair slightly graying, / As all-wise as a snake, and as sly? The boy dancing at count...»
«Oh, quietly mad I’d like to be — / I can’t keep calm to save my life — / When at the cinema I see / A one - armed man with pregnant wife. To me a harp will angels bring, / The world grows limpid as a pool — / But open-mouthed he’ll sit and grin / While Charlie Chaplin plays ...»
«I am an end and a beginning. / So little spun from all my spinning! / I’ve been a firm link nonetheless; / With that good fortune I’ve been blessed. New Russia enters on her greatness; / They’ll carve my head two-faced, like Janus, / At crossroads, looking down both ways, / Where ...»