The Cello’s Russian Voice

I still recall the magic vision

The Lark

My blood is boiling with desire

Do not tempt me

Doubt

In the ballroom

Only one who knows longing

Serenade

The fearful minute

It was in the early spring

Wether day dawns

Why

To forget so soon

Again, as before

In the silence of the mysterious night

Do not sing, my beauty, to me

How peaceful

Loneliness

The night is sad

To my sorrow I have grown to love

Lilacs

Spring streams