I wished this to be better, better...
And worked so thoroughly...
But all in vain...
The thought was so bright, but letters
Stood awkwardly and awfully,
And not in that rows, I wished for them...
Why they were so disobedient?
Why teased me so, that I wished
To take a switch and call them to my hand,
I raised my hand: 'Be ready! ' - wished...
And some letters were nice,
They heard my cry...
The others were indifferent,
they perfectly denied
All grimaces, all jumps, all shouts,
That I tried to perform.
...
You see, that poem
Is only the rest of all-about...
The remnants of my thoughts...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem