«The girls, those who pace / With boots of black eyes / Upon the flowers of my heart. / The girls who put javelins / Upon their eyelashes’ lakes. / The girls who wash their feet / In the lake of my words.»
«For me it’s much more pleasant / To look at the stars / Than to sing up a prisoner / To a death sentence. / For me it’s much more pleasant / To listen to the voices of flowers, / Whispering: "It’s he" / Bending their heads, / As I walk through the garden — / Than to see the...»
«I call you to try with a sword / To touch the shirt. / It’s away. / Say with the sword: the King is naked. / What we’ve done with fuzz of breath / I call you to do with iron.»
«To snow you / With silver of powder. / To give you a big broom, / The right to chase winter — / To give you.»