Soon Iíll explode like a ton of dynamite,
There is a charge of uncreative evil in me.
The Muse visited my home today,
She sat for awhile and then left, you see.
Well, she had some weighty reasons,
I donít have a right to whimper anymore.
Imagine the Muse at a manís home.
God knows, what people will say about her.
But still I feel so lonely and offended,
Because this Muse, most people will say -
Stayed up with Blok for many, many nights,
And lived with Balmont night and day.
I ran up to the table in impatience.
Oh, God, have mercy and please help.
She left, and so did the inspiration,
And three rubles for a taxi-cab.
Iím running wild like a beast from insanity.
But bless that Muse, I forgave her then.
She must have gone to someone elseís house,
Looks like I didnít treat her well.
A huge cake filled with birthday candles,
Has dried up from grief, and I feel the blues.
I drank the cognac with my evil neighbors,
The one that I prepared for my Muse.
The years passed, like people in a black list.
Everythingís in the past, Iím yawning all the time.
She left so silently, muttering in English,
But she submitted to me these two lines:
"I am a genius, get rid of doubts,
Give the delights, flowers and be wise!"
I remember that wonderful moment,
When you appeared before my eyes."