«I dedicate these lines to / Those who will arrange my coffin. / When you open my high, / Hated forehead. Changed unnecessarily, / By a crown on my head, — / My own heart alien / Will I lie in the coffin. They will not look at my face: / "I hear all! Can see all! / My being in tha...»
«You, whose dreams are not yet lost, / Whose movements are quiet, / Come to narrrow Tryokhprudny lane, / If you love my poetry. O, how sunny and how starry / Hear my vital first volume, / I implore you — before it's too late, / Come and see our house! It will soon be a ruined world / ...»
«My poems, written so early / That I did not know, that I was — a poet, / Thrown, like drops from a fountain, / Like sparks from a rocket, That burst like tiny devils, / Into the sanctuary of sleep and incense, / My poems about youth and death, / — Unread poems! — Scattered in du...»
«Walker, you look like me, / Eyes cast down. / I once lowered them — too! / Passer-by, wait! Read — when you have gathered / A bouquet of poppies — / That I was called Marina / And how old I was. Do not think that this is — a grave, / That I will appear, scary... / I too w...»