«Old pails and tubs all over / The place; from the onset / The day is wet and awkward, / It drizzles at sunset, / / And gulping down tears / The darkness gives a sigh, / At miles away one hears / Steam train's lonesome cry, / / An early dusk comes dow...»
«În zori harababură, / Ciubere şi covete, / Şi jilave apusuri, / Seri ude ciuciulete. Şi lacrimi înghiţite-n / Suspine de-nnoptare. / Locomotiva cheamă / La versta nu ştiu care. Şi iar amurguri sparte, / În curtea cu minuni / Septembrie împarte / Ştiute stricăciuni. ...»
«My trees, it's for your stunning eyes, / Because of your amazing presence / That, for the very first of times, / I live on Earth and see your essence. / / I often think: perhaps, the Lord, / When looking for the color, found / And took it from inside my heart / And dipped His brush ...»
«In every thing I want to grasp / Its very core. / In work, in searching for the path, / In heart's uproar. / / To see the essence of my days, / In every minute / To see its cause, its root, its base, / Its sacred meaning. /...»