Out Of My Great Sorrows, I Make

Matrimony; The High Sea For Which No Compass Has Yet Been Invented.

It Is Only Kindred Griefs That Draw Forth Our Tears, And Each Weeps Really For Himself.

The Propaganda Of Communism Possesses A Language Which Every People Can Understand. Its Elements Are Simply Hunger, Envy, Death.

In The Image Of The Lion Made He Kittens Small And Curious.

And Over The Pond Are Sailing Two Swans All White As Snow; Sweet Voices Mysteriously Wailing Pierce Through Me As Onward They Go. They Sail Along, And A Ringing Sweet Melody Rises On High; And When The Swans Begin Singing, They Presently Must Die.