to Valentina Serova
I buried love and doomed myself to be
Its monument. Above the recent grave
Upon myself I carved a dozen lines,
Beyond my strength and posthumously brave.
Love, like a runner in the marathon,
Had reached the tape but yet had lost all breath.
My love had lost the spirit and the soul
And body, lacking spirit, fell to death.
Firm as a stone, I stand amidst the graves
And all I ask is this - Let me alone!
And untoward inscriptions upon me
Do not attempt! For I am not a stone....