the death of which provoked him.
(instead of a letter) Tobacco smoke has consumed the air. The room is a chapter in Kruchenykh's inferno. Remember - beyond that window in a frenzy I first stroked your hands. You sit here today with an iron-clad heart. One more day you'll toss me out, perhaps, cursing. In the dim front hall my arm, broken by trembling won't fit right away in my sleeve. I'll run out, throw my body into the street. I'll rave, wild, lashed by despair. Don't let it happen my dear, my darling, let us part now. After all my love is a heavy weight hanging on you no matter where you go. Let me bellow a final cry of bitter, wounded grievance. If you drive a bull to exhaustion he will run away, lay himself down in the cold waters. Besides your love I have no ocean and your love won't grant even a tearful plea for rest. When a tired elephant wants peace he lies down regally in the firebound sand. Besides your love I have no sun, but I don't even know where you are and with whom. If you tortured a poet like this, he would berate his beloved for money and fame, but for me no sound is joyous but the sound of your beloved name. I won't throw myself downstairs or drink poison nor can I put a gun to my head. No blade holds me transfixed but your glance. Tomorrow you'll forget that I have crowned you, that I burned my flowering soul with love, and the whirling carnival of trivial days will ruffle the pages of my books... Would the dry leaves of my words force you to a stop gasping for air? At least let me pave with a parting endearment your retreating path.
Lilichka, Vladimir Mayakovsky,