«Whence cometh such tender rapture? / Those curls--they are not the first ones / I've smoothened, and I've already / Known lips — that were darker than yours. The stars have risen and faded, / — Whence cometh such tender rapture? — / And eyes have risen and faded / In face of thes...»
«I love that you are not obsessed with me / I love that I am not with you either. / And our heavy globe called Earth / Will never float beneath our feet. / I love that — I can be with you, silly, / Feel free — and do not play with words. / And do not blush with a breath-taking wave / ...»
«The Moon is like the round shield / Of a hero slain decades ago. / My heart is sick with a vague guilt / And of presentiments aglow. Through a smocky medow, and field, / And a deep ocean, a cruel foe, / With th' tilted forwars spear and shield, / Steals slowly up my monster woe. Excite...»
«Yes, I know, we're not a pair, / In some other land I was born, / What I like is not the guitar / But the wild blows of a horn. Not to gowns and tails I deliver / My best poems in luxurious halls, / I would rather read them to a river, / To the clouds and waterfalls. And I love, like i...»