«These evenings over the restaurants / The air is hot and strangely cloying, / And shouts drift from the drunkards’ haunts / On the putrid breath of spring. Far off, over dusty side streets can be seen — / Over snug villas mile on mile — / The golden flint of a baker’s sign, / An...»
«I Darkness — and white / Snow hurled / By the wind. The wind! / You cannot stand upright / For the wind: the wind / Scouring God’s world. The wind ruffles / The white snow, pulls / That treacherous / Wool over the wicked ice. / E...»
«To G. Chulkov I wander more and more about the city. / More and more see Death. And I smile / A reasonable smile. Well, what of that? / So I would have it. It is my nature thus to know / That death will come to me too, in its time. I walked along the road beside the races. / The golden d...»
«With this evening lake I hold discourse in the high / Harmony of song. In the slender thicket / Of high pines, from ramparts of sand, / From among graves and tombs where icon-lamps / Shine, and dusk is a smoky blue-gray, I send her loving songs. / She does not see me, nor need she. / Li...»