Tot és fulla / i per aquesta simplicitat / s’esdevé la més gran diversitat possible.
De volentat lo cor me tremolava / tot enaixí com fa fulla en arbre…
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: / What if my leaves are falling like its own!
Dull November brings the blast, / then the leaves are whirling fast.
It is time to let the leaves rain from the skies. Let the rich life run to the roots again.
A Wind that rose / Though not a Leaf.
folia haud ullis labentia ventis
If Poetry comes not as naturally as the Leaves to a tree it had better not come at all.
A Dew sufficed itself / And satisfied a Leaf.