«I wish I could love the clouds at / Daybreak... but their haze is bitter / To me: my bondage then weighs so heavily on / Me, I remember so much that I was young once. I wish I could love their evening, when / Reddening there the rays are extinguished, / But of the sacrifice of their rosy ...»
«Neither with the white boldness of palaces on the / Heights, with striking eagles on the patterned gates, / Nor with the feminine caprice of Arabian designs / Could I more tirelessly indulge my heart. / But in vain I have sought a soul, my own / Soul, in the pink patches among the rocks’...»
«Sonnet In pink-violet clusters the / Scentless lilac on this / Sultry — soft day is / Motionless, as if in fetters. No sun, but shadow with shadow / Is in eternally new combinations; / No rain, but rivers of ready tears - / But they are too lazy to flow. Half-sleep, half-consciousne...»
«Record for the Gramophone How dusty and red hot this street is! / O Lord, what a sad pine tree! / The balcony is under a roof. The wife is winding yarn. / The husband is just sitting. Behind them is canvas like a sail. / Their balcony is built over the very flower bed. / “You think itâ€...»