«I cried and I even repented, / Let the sky thunder and groan! / My dark heart just couldn’t stand it / In your forsaken vacant home. / I know a pain that is unbearable, / The shame of returning stunned… / How frightening it is, how terrible, / To the unloved, to the quiet one. / ...»
«At the new moon, he walked out, / The friend I loved. I’ll be okay! / “Tightrope dancer,” He joked loud, / “How will you survive till May?” As to a brother, I replied then, / Without gripes or jealousy, / But four new cloaks just aren’t likely / To replace this loss for me. ...»
«There’s an owl sewn — don’t stir — / Onto the pillow near us, / O, gray Moorka, do not purr, / My grandfather will hear us. / Nanny, candles will not burn, / Mice are scratching, fearless, / Why was that owl ever sewn? / I’m scared of his appearance. »
«Farewell, farewell, great unwashed Russia, / All lords and slaves who are our nation, / And you, blue-uniformed oppression, / And you, conformant population. Behind the Caucasus’ tall wall I’ll / Hide from your sultan’s officers, / From their all-seeing eagle eyes / And sensitive...»