Poplar Leaves (7 June 2006)
A grove is stirred by a playful breeze,
And poplar leaves start falling from ash trees,
Quite distinct in the light of the day:
No fucking way; there's just no fucking way.

Goodbye Taiga (27 June 2005)
Goodbye Taiga, I hope to see you soon,
Goodbye Taiga, my stay has been divine,
And nightingales sing their cheerful tune,
In all the woods of the Trans-Siberian line.

The Axe from Byron (24 August 2006)
Down the river floats an axe from the town of Byron.
Let it float. Who gives a damn? Fucking piece of iron.

Democracy (18 September 2006)
It may glisten like gold,
But democracy's such
That it's sweet to behold,
And unpleasant to touch.

Hymn to the Mountains and the Sea (4 October 2006)
Is not the ocean's endless, angry, nautical expanse,
The mountains' kin for peril, passion, mindlessness?
The white crests of the waves are pure as snow on mountain peaks,
And troughs between them yawn like jagged crevices.