I wished that 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 rows, I wished 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 remnant of my thought...