Dzhavahovskoe nest

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I want to say something else and I can not … My thoughts circled like fiery birds, and my soul burns like fire. Vague images rise before me. I can not stay in these rooms, I leads to the air, the walls of Smolny Monastery. Flying on wings, nesus through the long corridors, leaving puzzled my friends. I take a cab, and I beg him to go more on the Fontanka. Something pushes me, something is driving forward … The desire to write poetry, as it did in the days of his youth and adolescence? Entries pour their thoughts on paper? No, it’s something else, something still has no name, no name, it is still quite new and it is not clear to me …