«Give me bitter years in malady / Breathlessness, sleeplessness, fever, / Both a friend and a child and mysterious / Gift take away forever — / Thus I pray after your liturgy / After many exhausting days, / That the cloud over dark Russia / Become cloud in the glory of rays.»
«"Where is your gypsy boy, tall one, / That over black kerchief did weep, / Where is your small first child / What memory of him do you keep?" "Mother's role is a sweet torture, / I was not worthy of it. / The gate dissolved into white heaven, / Magdalene took the kid. "Each day for me ...»
«How often did I curse / This sky, this earth as well, / The slowly waving arms / Of this ancient windmill. / In a wing there lies a dead man, / Straight and grayhaired, on a bench, / As he did three years ago. / Thus the mice whet with their teeth / Books, and thus the stearine candl...»
«In boat or in horsecart / This way you cannot go / Deep water stands and lingers / In the decrepit snow / Surrounding the mansion / From every side by now... / Ah! Closely wails it over / The same Robinson Crusoe. / The sled, the skies, the horse / He will come by to see, / And l...»