«There arc the delicate pink ovals / On which the mists of morning flood, / And in unique bouquets unwinding / Steel-colored flowers bloom and bud. For nomad flics they are temptation; / Their gloss hides poisons' virulence... / Intrusive, variegated, idle, / The bare facets of existence...»
«Oh, how often I feel the burden I have hoarded / Of smudged, anemic days and many poisoned nights! / You, cards, docs anything exist that’s more attractive / And at the same time more banal and full of frights! But you are frightful, too, with a hangover’s frailty, / Preferred before al...»
«With blare of brass a funeral / Procession slowly walks... / A wax-like nose sticks gruesomely / Up from the coffin-box. Did he only want some more air... / Inside his empty chest? / The latest snow was dingy white; / The crumbed road rough — at best. And only sleet, the turgid sleet...»
«Of all the things which tempt me, I’ll remember / No, not your body - rippling like a spring, / And not your crimson smile with its wet shimmer / But that cold serpent of your suffering. So in a ballroom - banal, many-colored, / Sometimes when spirit-stirring waltzes play, / I conjure i...»