«I shall soon fall prey to rot. / Though it's hard to die, it's good to die; / I shall ask for no one's pity, / And there's no one who would pity me. With my lyre I won no glory / For my noble family name; / And I die as distant from my people / As the day that I began to live. Ties of ...»
«Under my window / Tucked in the snow / White birch retired / Clad in silver glow. On the fluffy branches / Snowy-trim with silver-tinge / Melted around catkins / Forming white fringe. Like golden fires / Snow-flakes blazed / While birch stood still / Asleep, or amazed. Meanwhile...»
«Leaves atremble, / the maples rocked. / They scattered pollen / like powdered brass. / Winds blew and / green forest sighted. / The echo whispered / with dried / feather – grass, Gloomy storm / at the window cries / bending twigs / toward the murky glass. / Shaking morosel...»
«In the evening realm / of the green spring, / A calm river winds / like a silvery string. / The forested hills / hug the red sun. / The golden horn / gives birth / to the moon; / In a tiny hut, / the ploughman / is back from the / furrowed hills. / The nightingale / trill...»