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».
Clean this darkness To-me not to survive the whole night. Never I will understand, That the love wants today. Think of a head split up, Tear apart feelings a soul. With hopelessness it is filled Put, that to you was not necessary. Night without edge and the end. Remove a gloom bottomless! Morning will rise at a porch, I will die then easy.