«Οι πιο σκοτεινές του χρόνου μέρες / Πρέπει να γίνουν φωτεινές. / Για να συγκρίνω λέξεις δε θα βρω – / Τα χείλη σου είναι τόσο τρυφερά. Τα μάτια μόνο να σηκώσεις μη ...»
«I am so sad because I worship you, / I know: that your flourishing youth / Will not be spared by the gossip's persecution. / For every sunny day or bit of sweet illusion / You'll pay the fate with tears and your pine. / I'm sad... 'cause you're so gay and fine.»
«When, in the cornfield, yellow waves are rising, / The wood is rustling at the sound of soft wind, / And, in the garden, crimson plums are hiding / In pleasant shade of leaves, so shining ones and green; When, spilled with fragrant dew in calmness of the alley, / In morning of a gold or eve...»
«We stood in the ranks — as a mute crowd, once, / While putting our friend to a ground, / Heard our chaplain's murmur and, by chance, / The roar of a tempest around. / The shakos sparkled over the sacred abode, / Immovable ones in a cloud, / With a...»