BEFORE SUNRISE
459'
He's wearing a smart navy blue coat with a belt. No ha't.
His face is pale. His eyes dull. He walks slowly. He mutters
something. I go up to him.
He is sullen and not inclined to talk. Despondency is written
allover him.
I
try to go, but he won't let me.
"Do you feel bad? Do you feel iII?"
I
ask him.
"Why?" he asks in alarm. "Do
I
look bad?"
Suddenly he laughs and says:
"I'm getting old, dear friend.... I'll soon hit thirty...."
We arrive at the Hotel Europe.
Esenin stands for a moment at the entrance, then says:
"Let's go across the street. To the beerhall. For a moment."
We go into the beerhall.
The poet V. Voinov it sitting at a table with his friends. He
comes towards us looking delighted. We sit down at his table.
Someone pours out mugs of beer.
Esenin says something to the waiter. He brings him a glass
of rowanberry liqueur.
,
Closing his eyes, Esenin drinks. And
I
see life returning to
him with every swallow. His cheeks become brighter. The ges–
tures more certain. The eyes light up.
He's about to call the waiter again. To distract him
I
ask
him to recite some poetry....
He readily agrees for some reason and is even delighted.
Standing up, he recites the poem "The Black Man."
People gather around the table. Somebody says: "It's
Esenin."
Practically the whole beerhall crowds round us.
A moment later Esenin is standing on the chair and, gesti–
culating, recites a short poem.
He recites wonderfully and with such feeling and such pain
that everyone is shaken.
I have seen many poets on the stage. I have seen them re-
