«Tears... again these bitter tears, / For broken dreams that flew far away, / For dreaded sadness that nothing cheers, / For new darkness, that nothing keeps at bay. What is to come? More such torment? / No, its enough... It is time to rest, let go, / And to forget the sounds of lament, / ...»
«Dedicated to I. D. Rudinsky Sun’s golden arc / Hot like a red coal, / Sent down its spark / And it warmed my soul; Although, I am not sure / Now, I hope that I could / Expect from my future / To bring something good; The warmth brought me back / To life, the light illuminated me /...»
«Blossom wite bird cherries scatter / On the on the dewy grass like snow. / Hungry rooks in ploughland gather, / Picked warms up as they go. Low the silk smooth grath is bending, / Pitch scents to the pine-trees cling. / Groves in leaf, and luscios meadows — / How the senses reel in sp...»
«Still around, old dear? How are you keeping? / I too am around. Hello to you! / May that magic twilight ever be streaming / Over your cottage as it used to do. People write how sad you are, and anxious / For my sake, though you won't tell them so, / And that you in your old-fashioned jack...»