“THERE is famine; bread, bread !”
Who is sighing?
On the threshold of my cottage, who is sighing?
...
ON the bank of the river, in the row of cranes,
That one drooped its head,
Put its beak under its wing, and with itsaged
Dim pupils, awaited
...
Here the book which I promised…
There if you find the dream bottomless of the secular life,
...
BENEATH my window, as each morning dawns,
You like a wandering ghost go flitting by,
And on your beauteous virgin head there fall
...
MY mother writes: “My son on pilgrimage,
How long beneath a strange moon will you roam?
How long a time must pass ere your poor head
...
Villages to the horizons, extends the field from our maternity;
Spring has just arrived.
...
It's the sower. He is standing tall and stout
In the sunset's rays which are like flowing gold;
...