«Fine is the wine that loves us, / and the bread baked for our sake, / and the woman who lies and loves us / when she’s finished her tweaking games. But sunset clouds, rose / in a sky turned cold, / calm like some other earth? / immortal poems? All inedible, non-potable, un-kissable. ...»
«It's priceless — wine, that falls in love with us, / And bread, that sits for us in oven, — priceless treasure, / And priceless is a woman that, at last, / After all torments, we possess for pleasure. But what to do with clear light of dawn, / When sky's, like heaven, peaceful, deep an...»
«It seems the sea, that scourge of ages, / contrives your genius to inspire? / You laud upon your golden lyre / old Neptune’s trident as he rages. Don’t waste your praise. These days you’ll find / that sea and land have no division. / On any element mankind / is tyrant, traitor, or...»
«How is your life with the other one, / simpler, isn’t it? One stroke of the oar / then a long coastline, and soon / even the memory of me will be a floating island / (in the sky, not on the waters): / spirits, spirits, you will be / sisters, and never lovers. How is your lif...»