Once in one magazine came a collection of biographies of poets of the Silver Age without special notes. Not boring people lived, I must say. Balmont was thrown out of the window of the 3rd floor naked to his wife, but remained alive and chrome as Byron, Block literally pushed his own wife to the novels on the side, Mayakovsky and Briki with their high relationships, Yesenin with his public scandals and fights with Duncan, a widespread passion in the poetic environment of cocaine and morphine... In general, Akhmatova “when you knew from what sores the poems grow, not knowing shame” played for me a few new colors.