«In my night-time fever / I see you, O / Winged Victory of Samothrace, / reaching out your arms. First night-silence runs / from you, then your blind / inexorable driving flight / brings giddiness, whirling sick. Your crazy-bright eyes / laugh, and blaze, / and our shadows run behin...»
«Lázálmaimban forgolódva / Te állsz elébem újra s újra — / Niké szamothrakéi szobra, / Széttárt kezed elõre nyújtva. Az éji csendet felriasztva, / Hogy fejem is megszédül tõle, / Szárnyas, vak, visszatarthatatlan / Akaratoddal törsz elõre. Eszelõs-fénylõ s...»
«At my window pane / A somber birch tree / Is newly adorned / By the frost’s whimsy. It’s like bunches of grapes / That hang from branch tips — / And the mournful shapes / Are a joy to contemplate. I watch the daylight spread / To play along the branches; / But when birds alig...»
«Storms in the evening skies, / The din of a sea gone mad / Storms on the sea and broodings, / Heavy the pain as I brood — / Storms on the sea and broodings, / Whose chorus broods and grows loud — / Black cloud rears from black cloud, / The din of a sea gone mad.»