A rigorous cohesion of the entire tristich

in the memoirs of the famous poet,

screaming like a madman seven exclamatory holophrases.

The voiced prevocalic embracing rhyme recalls

the persistent testimony of selfsome speech.

"I'm suffocating here, suffocating..."

To express the irritation,

echo the overwhelmingly crushing narrative.

The memoirist is guilty of life.

The writer's late peripheral activities:

grotesque little "fairytales"

with supraconscious symbolism of elevated eroticism.

"I'd lost my mind."

This vicious motif, the delirious phantasmagoria

decked out in whimsical wisdom.

With a half stroke- it's too much!

Damn.

Burn the writer, the biography, the myth.

Suicide prompted them to rethink the era of Romanticism.

A writer's life:

the "hard facts" and "beautiful lies" proclaimed erroneous

The authentic life of the poet,

opposed by the poet's own myth.

The poetic fact-

he, himself creates reality,

brings into existence and takes.

The most striking instance of suicide:

he shot himself.

Mythology is resignation to fate.

The leitmotif of myth is fate.