«I don’t know, I can’t explain... / Do I love or do I die? / Is it a dream or is it Verlaine? / Is it spell or a prison cell? Either the torment of the ideal / Or the beauty’s torment / Is spilled in the whole world / From a broken goblet. The dream might be wrong as well / Whe...»
«The din dies down. I enter from the wings. / Leaning inside the doorway to the stage, / I try and catch an echo in the distance, / A sense of what shall happen in my age. Thousands of theater glasses focus on me, / Turning on me the darkness of the night. / If it be in Thy power, Abba ...»
«Held captured and enraptured deeply, / I saw my dreams during the day, — / All saw me sleeping where I lay, / Nobody saw me tired and sleepy. And all because throughout the day, / The dreams were floating in my sight, / I can’t sleep now, and here I stay / And like a lonesome shadow...»
«Some — made of stone, others — of clay, — / But none of them sparkle like me! / Marina's my name, caprice is my way, / I'm the transient foam of the sea. Some — made of clay, others — of flesh, / For them, there are tombstones and graves... / I'm — baptized at sea, and bro...»