Wednesday, 5 January 2011
To Sergei Esenin by Mayakovsky (an excerpt for Michael)
You have gone
(as they say)
to a Better World.
a stairway to the stars, didn't you?
No more publishers
advances, no more bars.
Sobered up at last.
No, Esenin, this isn't a joke.
There's a lump of grief in my throat.
I can see you with your slit wrists
slinging up your bundle of bones.
Come off it!
Are you crazy or what?
Smearing your cheeks with dead-white chalk?
You, who could do things with words
no one in the world
WHY? WHAT FOR?
None of us understands.