«Ah, hell, what a blizzard! / It’s hammering white nails into the roof. / But I’m not afraid — it’s in my fate / That my hapless heart nails me to you.»
«Snowy plain, white moon. / Our land is draped in a shroud. / Dressed in white, the birches cry in the woods. / Who perished here? Who died? Could it be me?»
«On the edge of a juniper grove / Autumn, the red mare, walks quietly / Dropping leaves from its mane on the ground. And the clang of its hoofs is heard / In the mist of the river banks / Where no wind goes round. But the wanderer, it raises the foliage / On the roads and rustles it, / ...»
«I quivered. I flared up, and then was extinguished. / I shook. I had made a proposal — but late, / Too late. I was scared, and she had refused me. / I pity her tears, am more blessed than a saint. I stepped into the square. I could be counted / Among the twice-born. Every leaf on the ...»