«In memory of A. Blok and N. Gumilyov Day by day more brutal and more savage, / Deathly horror holds the night in thrall. / Putrid winds extinguish lives like candles. / No more strength to scream, to help, to call. / Dark the destiny of Russian poets / And inscrutable the roads they trod:...»
«A girl was singing in the choir with fervor / Of all who have known exile and distress, / Of all the vessels that have left the harbor, / Of all who have forgotten happiness. Her voice soared up to the dome. Glistening, / A sunbeam brushed her shoulder in its flight, / And from the darkne...»
«What were those strolling fops and dandies / Making of the seashore? / They set up tables, smoke, chew, / Sip soft drinks. Then wander about the beach / Moodily laughing and infecting / The salty air with their gossip. Then, / Their drivers take them out in kibitkas2 / Covered coquetti...»
«These evenings over the restaurants / The air is hot and strangely cloying, / And shouts drift from the drunkards’ haunts / On the putrid breath of spring. Far off, over dusty side streets can be seen — / Over snug villas mile on mile — / The golden flint of a baker’s sign, / An...»