«White and dishevelled, she looks outrageous, / Rushing about, brisk and courageous. / / Dark is the night, it is scared to death, and / Clouds, like kerchiefs, have covered the crescent. / / Wind, letting out hysterical hoots, / Whirls like a shot to the back of the woods. / / ...»
«Silver bluebell, are you singing, / Or, perchance, my heart is dreaming? / Light from rosy icon flashes / Falling on my golden lashes. / / Though I'm not that gentle infant / in the flapping splash of pigeons, / Yet my dreams are sweet and distant, / Somewhere in the woodland regio...»
«Over there beyond fields of yellow / There are villages stretching ahead. / There's a wood and the sunset of mellow / And a fence with a nettle thread. / / There over the domes of the temple / Is the turquoise dust of the sky, / And the wind rings the grass, wet and gentle, / A...»
«You don't love me and don't feel compassion / Don't you think that now I look my best? / Though you look aside you're thrilled with passion / As you put your arms upon my chest. / / You are young , so sensitive and zealous, / I am neither bad nor very good to you. / Tell me, did you ...»