The poem always was for me the form of expression of feelings. In two-three stanzas finds room much – the overflowing emotions asking on will of thought, impetuous passion. Not having possibility to give vent to this all on a paper, for a long time would descend suma from an overabundance of feelings. And so – anything, it was possible to consult. Improbably it would be desirable, not spending, certainly, not deserved analogies to repeat thereupon Sergey Yesenin's words: «as to other autobiographical data, - they in my verses».
Three camomiles yellow To the friend I will present With words dead «I like you». Two changes – silly, Proof – one: That, that is not sunk In a whirlpool of wine, That, that in heart glimmers Also knocks on breasts, That, with which across the field I wish to leave. Where still we will meet, How much with it of changes? Perhaps a field yellow, Can – for ever.