«Drowsy feather-grass. Beloved lowlands, / Wormwood fresh and of a leaden hue. / There’s no other country that so wholly / Calms my soul and warms me through and through. This would seem our common dispensation / And at one conclusion we arrive: / That, rejoicing, suffering and raging, /...»
«Leaves are falling, leaves are falling. / The wind is moaning / A long dull moan. / Who’ll bring joy, my heart enthralling? / Who, friend, shall my heart console? Heavy-lidded my eyes are, slowly / I fix my gaze upon the moon / And once more the cocks are crowing / In air to autumn ...»
«To my sister Shura I’ve never seen women so pretty, / But, I must say, at heart I secrete / Not a bad but a good-natured envy / That my own young days you repeat. My cornflower manifest — you are, / And you I shall love evermore. / How is our old cow there now doing, / Munching its...»
«To my sister Shura Come now, sing me the song our mother / Used to sing us long, long ago. / Not regretting hopes now smothered, / I’ll sing the descant that I know. It’s just because the tune’s familiar / That my heart and soul so rejoice, / Hearing as if from the home of our fami...»