«How helplessly chilled was my chest, yet / My footsteps were nimble and light. / The glove that belonged on my left hand / I unconsciously put on my right. It seemed that the stairs were endless, / But I knew — there were only three! / Autumn, whispering through the maples, / Pleaded...»
«My breast grew cold and numb, / But my feet were light. / On to my right hand I fumbled / The glove to my left hand. It seemed that there were many steps / — I knew there were only three. / An autumn whisper between the maples / Kept urging: "Die with me. Change has made me weary, / ...»
«Not yet does the current hold sway / but it’s drowning the blue ice; / the clouds have not melted away, / yet the snow is drifting in sunlight. Through a half-open door / my heart hears a whisper... / You don’t yet love, but no more / can you keep your distance.»
«I come again with greetings new, / to tell you day is well begun; / to say the leaves are fresh with dew / and dappled in the early sun; to tell you how the forest stirs / in every branch of every brake, / and what an April thirst is hers, / with every whistling bird awake; to say, as ...»