«I love the faded blossoms / Of late-blooming violets and lilacs, / Half-hinted, half-tinted / By an entwining haze of beauty. The troubled soul is ill / And embraced by the silent dusk; / It is enraptured by approaching sleep / And the peaceful charm of sunset. What remains for the fir...»
«Someone said to me: “Your beloved / Will be wrapped in a fiery cloak...” / Whose sling hurled a stone. / Crashing with frenzied force?.. Whose flint arrow / Is buried in the sand by the spring? / Whose fleeting hoof / Left its imprint in the rock? Whose gleaming visor / Glinted p...»
«When the Great Bear stands / At its zenith above the white city, / I weave silver threads / And the spinning wheel rattles. My hour has come, the steps are creaking, / The door squeaks... O, who will enter? / Who will kneel beside me. / To prick herself like me? The door has swung open...»
«A wreath woven of sharp thorns / Encircles your poor brow like a crown, / And from your eyes — dark shadows. / Before you, on my knees / I bow, as if at vesper’s sacrifice; / Onto my dress, drops of blood / Like garnets drip from your feet... Still no one has yet guessed / Why my ...»