The only thing, that I am afraid of, Is just to be forgotten. That’s worse than death for me. When I write down verses, I am seized by horror: If these verses Will never be read by anybody, And nobody will ever be Worrying together with me, If they will never Help someone?!. When I think of that I feel how death is moving. But it doesn’t frighten me as much, As thought of my seed not sown Which can appear To be a little chuck… Though there is still a hope, That flower will explode In someone’s memory. Without a hope – supposal One wouldn’t be a person. Without a hope - supposal One ceases to survive.