About the book: year / "If someday these lines - whether by a miracle, or the inattention of the Soviet censor - tremble in your hands, do not be angry with me for being sharp I open up your spit-stained soul with a scalpel, I tell you about it in simple and terrible, vulgar and gentle, cynical and holy words of your own letter! Believe me, pathetic one, believe me, fallen into red hops, your sin is not joyful…»