Boris Kriger. A thousand lives (№ 20907)

Poetry - this is our music, clothed in words, is imbued with the delicate strings of meanings and dreams, and therefore - chase critics. They - only a measly prihlebaly poetry. What can a critic say about the depths of your soul? Don't let his vulgar groping the handle. Let the verse will seem to him ridiculous mooing, chaotic jumble of words. For us is a song of freedom from the tedious of reason, nice song, sounding on the white slopes of our amazing minds.