«Instead of wisdom — experience was / My fresh, non-quenching glass. / My youth was Sunday prayer’s words… / Could I forget my past? How many deserted roads were trod / With him, who wasn’t dear, / How many times did I bow to God, / For him, who was sincere… I have become forg...»
«Ah! Here you come again. Not as a smitten youth, / But as a man who’s stern, unbending and uncouth, / You walk inside and barely look up at me at all. / The calm before the storm is frightening to my soul. / You ask me what it was that I have done to you, / Who offered up yourself, with ...»
«The muse went on her way, / Autumnal and steep all through, / Her suntan legs were sprayed / With luminous drops of dew. I tried and begged her to brave / The winter and not to leave. / She only replied: “It’s a grave, / How can you even breathe?” I wanted to give her a dove / ...»
«They soar, they are somewhere mid-flight, / The words of love and liberation, / And I’m succumbing to stage-fright, / My lips — ice cold in trepidation. But soon, where birches, thin and humble, / Caress the windows with their leaves, — / The voice of the unseen will rumble, / An...»