But some poems are amazing. I mean not all of them, no. In fact, most of them are repetitive as hell - trees, cold, something in the window. I don't know why Ivanov never saw anything through, let's say, a door or under his bed or in his closet. Maybe he was in some anti-door league. But I guess I get the cold part - to be Russian and not to write about snow and cold would be unnatural. :)
But a few poems are fantastic and truly creepy. Here's one:
I will gradually become trained,
March with others, day out, day in.
Will not worry about the mundane.
Following regulations feel shame.
They stand – I stand. They sit – I sit.
Will remember my hundred-digit sign.
Be loyally grateful to hell for bloody
Stars in constellations above my head.
What do you think?