«A birch tree lived in the park’s scanty brushwood, / As dark and dry as dejection... / In a May noon there a girl took off her hat. / And her plait fell loose. Her dear one / Completed the patterned open-work / By laughingly hanging the floral / Hat on a branch of the birch. / . . . ...»
«. . . . . . . . . . . . . / And all night there hazes meandered across the moon, / And all night someone pitifully sensitive dozed / On the seat there, his derby hat pulled down low. / . . . . . . . . . . . . . / And towards daybreak, in the milky fog / There was hanging on the birch a /...»
«The sky is not blossoming with stars in the fog, the / Timid evening has not kindled them today... Only the / Languid fir trees are gleaming through the windows, / And the whirling light snow is covering us. The snowflakes showered on the fur of your / Eyelashes will not let you look into m...»
«“My darling, my darling, where have you / Been at night, in such a snowstorm?” / — “To grief, even at night the road is / Bright; I went to the Old One at the mill.” “My darling, my darling, I don’t understand / A speech with false words... / With what did you go to him at n...»