«To N. N. Russov / / He ran. Bid farewell to the guards, / The earth purpled in the forest. / He skulked above the eternal calm, / Slaking ruthless vengeance. / / He skulked, lifeless staff / In cold clenching hand. / He stood on the Volga slopes / And dropped to the dear river....»
«The music clamoured in the garden / With such inexpressible sorrow. / Freshly and sharply with the scent of sea / Smelled the oysters on ice. He said to me: "I am a loyal friend!" / And touched my dress. / So unlike an embrace / Is the touch of these hands. Cats or birds are petted tha...»
«All of us are are revellers here, whores, / How mirthless it is for us to be together! / On the walls, flowers and birds / languish in clouds. You are smoking a black pipe, / So strange are the wisps over it. / I put on a tight dress, / To look even slimmer. Forever forgotten windows: ...»
«A boy said to me: "How painful it is!" / And it’s a great pity with him. / Just a short while ago he was content, / Having only heard about sorrow. And now he knows all of it, no less / Than you, wise and old, do. / Dimmed and, it seems, already became / So the pupils of blinding eyes...»