«Without obstetrician, in darkness, unconscious, / The towering Urals, hands clawing the night, / Yelled out in travail and fainted away, / Blinded by agony, gave birth to light. In thunder, the masses and bronzes of mountains, / Accidentally struck, avalanched down. / The train went on pa...»
«The rain cleans the willow dung / Off the meadows with its wet brooms. / Go ahead, wind, spit your clumps of leaves. / I’m a hooligan just like you. I love it when your blue woods, / Like oxen with heavy steps, / Soil the knees of the trunks / With their foliage-wheezing bellies. Her...»
«For Marienhof I’m the last poet of the village. / The wooden bridge is modest in my songs. / I’m attending the farewell night service / Of birches hemorrhaging foliage. The wax candle of flesh / Will burn its last golden flame, / And the moon’s wooden clock / Will wheeze out my t...»
«Since ancient times, a special measure / Has existed for all living things. / If I hadn’t been a poet, I probably would / Have been a thief and a conman. Thin and short, / Always a hero among boys, / How often I came home / With a busted nose. To my frightened mother / I hissed thr...»