«Good poems torment me much, / Bad ones — are nice without reason: / They can't sting souls, nor they bite, / They have the warmth of home, isn't it? So — that's a real lemonad, of course, / (They're light, as a silk morning gown). / And qeniuse ones takes minute to concern, oh... ...»
«Since that time when the highest court / Had given me the prophet's vision, / In eyes of men I always caught / The images of sin and treason. Then I began to promulgate / The clear love's and truth's commandment: / At me all humans threw for that / Hard sticks and stones, like the madme...»
«E’er since eternal judge gave me / A prophet’s proud omniscient manner, / In people’s eyes I’m wont to see / The wicked sway of vice’s banner. When I began to tell of love / And truth in all its purest teaching: / My fellows in a pressing shove / Stoned me, in spite of all bes...»
«Seit der ewige Richter / mir die Allwissenheit des Propheten verlieh, / lese ich in den Augen der Menschen / ganze Seiten von Bosheit und Laster. Zu verkünden begann ich der Liebe / und der Wahrheit reine Lehren: / Da warfen alle meine Nächsten / wie rasend Steine auf mich. Ich streu...»