«Is it my fault that I’m a poet / Of heavy suffering and bitter fate? / After all, it wasn’t my choice — / It’s just the way I came into the world. / / Is it my fault that I don’t cherish life, / That I love and simultaneously hate everyone, / And know things about myself I d...»
«The white birch / Under my window / Wrapped herself in snow / As though in silver. / / Like snow borders / On fluffy branches, / White fringes of tassels / Have blossomed. / / And the birch stands / In listless silence, / And the snowflakes burn / In the golden fire. / ...»
«Out came the Lord to test humanity’s love, / Walked out into a field in the guise of a beggar. / An old man sitting on a stump in an oak grove / Was chewing a dry crumpet with his toothless mouth. / / The old man saw the beggar walking / Down the path with an iron cane / And thought...»
«In the land of yellow nettle / And dried-out wattle / Village huts, like orphans, / Cling to willows. / / In the fields, behind the ravine’s blue thicket, / Among green lakes, / The sand road stretches up to / The Siberian Mountains. / / Lost somewhere in Mordva and Chuda, / ...»