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».
You are old in sixteen, As the shrew you is terrible, You can not try at all – You were and there is one. All – your inconstancy, Eternal search of new words. You are poor as narrow-mindedness Also it is mad as love.