«Addis Ababa, city of roses. / Near the bank of transparent streams, / No earthly devas brought you here, / A diamond, amidst gloomy gorges. Armidin garden … There a pilgrim / Keeps his oath of obscure love / (Mind, we all bow before him), / And the roses cloy, the roses red. There, ...»
«In corridors dead-locked and halls like the deserts / Hilarious masks today gathered together, / With flowers the chambers entwined and the closets / Wild dances have stormed like the autumnal weather. The Moons with the dragons have wandered embracing, / The vases Chinese trashed about bet...»
«Only one thing torments my delirium: / how certain sharp lines go on for ever, / and a bell rings and rings and rings / like a clock marking off eternity. Just so, after death, / eyes stare into darkness / (the agonized hope of resurrection) / trying to see familiar visions. But there ...»
«In my delirium, only the endlessness / Of some sharp lines plagues me, / And the bell incessantly tolls / As a clock, striking eternity. It seems to me, that after death it’s how, / With an agonising hope of resurrection, / The eyes get fixed on the surrounding murk, / Seeking the old...»