«The snow melts, brooks run with babbles, — / The spring is coming fine and earnest… / Before long whistles of nightingales / Will sound in a dressed up forest. / / In clear azure of the sky / The sun full brilliance is getting, / The cold snowy season has passed by, / Agai...»
«Of all the stars amid the twinkling stir / The only Star between them I distinguish… / It’s not because I am in love with her, / It is because that I with others languish. She is the one whomever I address / With a request of sage advice to guide me. / It’s not because the brighte...»
«Despite our hearts still correlate / I will not ever be your bound, / From you recede, I’m like a glade / That from a night porch recoils around. / Oh, women’s ways have dreadful lot! / The last melodiousness of nature / Transfigured on the seasons’ road / Keeps sorrowful fat...»
«If you do not rejoice at the sun so brightly shining, / If a child’s funny face does not lighten your mood, / Think of poems by Pushkin, and Goethe, and Heine, / Of Beethoven’s concertos, and Chopin’s etudes. There’s ingenious spirit in every small instance — / In inquisitive eyes...»