Untitled	Poems of Catullus	Promenade
A new day	The song of the earth	The Strong form
Nothing as futile as following leaders	The striving spirit	The magic of things real
What has not been and is, is	Where to nature?	With each crisis a new confusion
Into the future	In nature I am merely a passer-by	Where to now?
The New Day	I, in nature and outside it	In search of one's path
In my memory of things, my themes	Lyrical Flower	The mind in the form
A Metaphor	As in a dream	Beyond things real
Colour enhances form	Dusk	Each pain is new
The erotic passion	The eye sees in objects subjects	The familiar too may seem strange
Following the call of music	I think with objects	Standing Mother and Child
Two Grey Figures