The lord came to torture people in love, came out he is a beggar in the middle of nowhere, well, remember, the sower of the desert of pushkin or these poor villages of tyutchev, the next one, here is a poem, i just opened a book, quietly in the juniper thicket along the cliff, in the autumn a red mare scratches a mushroom, here there is such a revival of nature when, well, actually not its very clear whats in front of you, a hut, an animal or grass, or storm or rain, i love this. Well, we love this too, why not, of course, and this is what people like and uh, these poems are also wonderful and form the basis of many song works , the noise and din in this creepy lair and so on and so forth, well, yes, its wonderful , like andrey, it seems to you that yesenin it s these poems that he pushed away from himself, or after all, the image of shackles, this. Such an evolutionary thing is natural for him, yes, i think that this is the path of development, and if we say that this is a little like