«My good old naughty organ, / The sound you make is sweet. / My good old naughty organ, / I wonder where you lead. / I'm plodding hardly able / to move ahead an inch. / How can I reach my aim when / the shoes I'm wearing pinch? I'm working, I'm freelancing. / A steady job it is! / ...»
«My city is asleep now, but I don't care a bit. / I was its baby-sitter, I was its little kid. / Its soldier and its worker, too, I used to be. / It always had the feeling of striking love for me. Its helping hand it stretched me in an estranging way / remembering my week-days, but not my ho...»
«When, like a beast, the snow storm roars, / when, in a rage, it howls, / you do not have to lock the doors, / of your residing house. When on a lasting trip you go / the road is hard, supposing, / you ought to open wide your door / leave it unlocked, don't close it. / / As you leav...»
«Wintertime. Night. Flying over the lampshade / a butterfly struggles: / wishing to rise high above the precarious fortune / one bungles. / / Now in December a summer time butterfly / wants to revive, / not even thinking about / the Good and the Evil in life. / / Is it a butterf...»