«With scorning laughter at a fellow writer, / In a chorus the Russian scribes / With name of aristocrat me chide: / Just look, if please you . . . nonsense what! / Court Coachman not I, nor assessor, / Nor am I nobleman by cross; / No academician, nor professor, / I’m simply of Russia...»
«In the days of my youth she was fond of me, / And the seven-stemmed flute she handed me. / To me with smile she listened; and already gently / Along the openings echoing of the woods / Was playing I with fingers tender: / Both hymns solemn, god-inspired / And peaceful song of Phrygian sh...»
«In those days when new to me were / Of existence all impressions: — / The maiden's glances, the forests' whisper, / The song of nightingale at night; / When the sentiments elevated / Of Freedom, glory and of love, / And of art the inspiration / Stirred deeply so my blood: — / My ...»
«Like a dog on a chain the machine-gun / Barks out from beyond the wood; / Splinters of shrapnel are buzzing / Like bees as they forage for food. And that distant ‘Hurrah’, like the song of / The reapers, might tempt you to say / That this is some peaceful village / At the end of a f...»