Book: Third call

Our nerves are not rubber,
And brains are not paraffin.
So, it follows, Regina,
Sometimes the decanter is thawed.

Now Misha, at leisure
Show that he has not weakened.
And let them be,
Get yourself two women.
To caress you both,
You're tickling their nerves.

The one that does not exist today.

Let the poem suffer!
Let me step it out! Later
Like a shaken plant,
I'm going to rustle the leaf.
I'll be a master only tomorrow,
And only tomorrow I will understand,
What happiness has fallen
Fool, jester, god knows whom.
The Great Tale of the College
Whispering, groping for sound,
Whisper, trembling with amaise
And tears licking from his lips.

In a fit of prophetic labor.

Two quantities ...

... I went into the distance, I was sad,
Love passed, wine left.
And I thought about art:
Is it really necessary?

I don't have them. And everything is allowed.