"Mayakovsky often felt lonely, but it wasn’t because people didn’t love him, or because he had no friends or needed more recognition. His poems were published, people read his work and listened to him in crowded halls. There were countless numbers of people who were devoted to him and loved him. But it was all only a drop in the ocean for him. He was, as Brik said, a man who had "an insatiable thief in his soul." He felt it was necessary that he should be read by the people who didn’t read him, that he should be heard by the audiences who stayed away from his readings, and that he should be loved by the woman, who it seemed to him, didn’t love him. There was nothing to be done."

--Lily Brik

"Past One O'clock..." Past one o’clock. You’re probably in bed. The Milky Way streams like the silver Oka. I won’t send wild telegrams. I don’t intend to trouble you and vex you any longer. And now, as people say, our case is closed. The boat of love could not endure the grind. We’re even now. And there is no remorse, let’s not bring up the sorrows left behind. Behold what hush has fallen on the ground! The starry night is grandiose and spacious. At times as these, you rise and speak aloud to ages, histories and all creation.

Vladimir Mayakovsky 1930
Translated by Andrey Kneller

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