Я думал, что сердце из камня,     

Что пусто оно и мертво:     

Пусть в сердце огонь языками                                                                                                                                                                   

Походит - ему ничего.                                                                                                                                                                                         

И точно: мне было не больно,                                                                                                                                                                          

А больно, так разве чуть - чуть,                                                                                                                                                                   

И все - таки лучше довольно,                                                                                                                                                                   

Задуй, пока можно задуть...                                                                                                                                                                         

На сердце темно, как в могиле,                                                                                                                                                                       

Я знал, что пожар я уйму...                                                                                                                                                                           

Ну вот... и огонь потушили,                                                                                                                                                                             

А я умираю в дыму.