The lovely Lo Fo of the western land
Plucks mulberry leaves by the waterside.
Across the green boughs stretches out her white hand;
In golden sunshine her rosy robe is dyed.
'my silkworms are hungry, I cannot stay.
Tarry not with your five-horse cab, I pray.'

Witness not the sages of the past,
Perceive not the wise of the future,

Reflecting on heaven and earth eternal,
Tears flowing down I lament in loneliness.

Here I sit
With my shoes mismated.
Lawdy-mercy!
I's frustrated!

Back turned without thought
careless crossings of tired eyes
malice unspoken

back home from work
in front of the mirror
my mask falls off
...

Baby cry -
Oh fie! -
At the physic in the cup:
Gulp it twice
And gulp it thrice,
Baby gulp it up.

Baby in the cauldron fell, --
See the grief on Mother's brow;
Mother loved her darling well, --
Darling's quite hard-boiled by now.

Oh, God did cunningly, there at Babel -
Not mere tongues dividing, but soul from soul,
So that never again should men be able
To fashion one infinite, towering whole.

Du Kjærlige, Du Milde, med et Hjerte som Faa,
Bramfri, som altid den sande Aand man saae,
Beskeden og saa rig dog paa Digtekunstens Skatte;
— I disse fattige Ord, dit Billede jeg satte.

Der staaer en Blomst, tilsmilet af Camene,
Men den er skjult af Bøgens større Grene;
Dog Farveskjæret, Duften i dens Indre,
Er derfor jo endnu slet ikke mindre.