«8 And flies swarming round the indifferent mares, / and the familiar grass lifting in the wind, / and whistled tunes and the immense sky, / and waves of bells breaking over waves of wheat, / and endless boring tales about the Germans, / and the yellow, yellow cross beyond the blue grove, ...»
«15 Without a call, without a word, / like snow softly sliding off the roof, / can it be you’ve come back? / Are you asleep in a cradle? Brightly you burn, / icon lamp only a few weeks old . . . / Who among mortal women / is rocking your cradle? Blissful burden, / prophetic reed, /...»
«In the country of yellow nettles / the twig fences are brittle / the log houses huddle like orphans / into the pussy-willows through fields over the hills’ blue / by the greenness of lakes / a road of sand leads to the mountains / of Siberia Between Mongols and Finns Russia / is lo...»
«Wind whistles through the steep fence / hides in the grass / a drunk and a thief / I’ll end my days / the light sinking in red hills / shows me the path / I’m not the only one on it / not the only one / plowed Russia stretches aw...»