«I have no use for regimental odes, / Or the impassioned elegiac hoax. / I make my verses quite beside the point / Made by the just, plain folks. / I wish you knew the kind of garbage heap / Wild verses grow on, paying shame no heed, / Like dandelions yellowing a fence, / Like burdock a...»
«They're not my kind who left the land / To enemies and plundering. / I do not heed their vulgar praise. / My songs are not for them to sing. But I ever do I grieve for exiles, / Like inmates, like the nearly dead. / Dark is the road you wander, rovers, / As wormwood fills your foreign ...»
«Night. Streetlamp. Street. The chemist's store. / A world in dingy, sleazy light. / Survive a quarter century more, / Nothing will change. Can't leave tonight. You'll die- and start the whole thing over. / The same old story will repeat: / Night. Icy rippling of the river. / Streetlamp...»
«La noche, la droguería, la calle, el farol, / Mundo absurdo e insípido. / Vive aunque sea un cuarto de siglo más / Y todo será lo mismo. No hay salida. Morirás -empezarás otra vez desde el comienzo / Todo se repetirá como antaño: / La noche, el helado escarceo en el canal, / La ...»