«To M. Lozinsky This heavy, amber day — it wouldn’t end! / Grief is impossible, and waiting won’t suffice! / The deer speaks with a silver voice again / In the menagerie about the northern lights. I, too, believed that there exists cool snow, / A blue font for the needy and unwell, / ...»
«To O. A. Glebova-Sudeikina As you stare at the wall, what is catching your eye, / In the hour, when sunset still hangs in the sky? A gull on the blue tablecloth of the sea, / Or is it Florentine gardens, is that what you see? Perhaps the Tsar’s Village, with its enormous old park, / Where...»
«All stayed the same, just as it was, / Here it is futile to be dreaming, / This road’s impassable, I close / My shutters early in the evening. One window peers out to the woods, / My quiet home is grim and shoddy. / Someone was cut here from a noose, / And afterward they cursed his bo...»
«The cats are meowing woefully nearby, / I hear somebody distant walking slow... / Your words were a delightful lullaby: / They’ve kept me up for three months in a row. O, insomnia, you’ve come to me anew! / Your expression is, like always, frozen. / Tell me, beauty, tell me, outlaw ...»