bohemian - Popular Poems and stories from category

I went off with my hands in my torn coat pockets;my overcoat too was becoming ideal;
I travelled beneath the sky,
Muse
and I was your vassal;

Подол, Подол, ты - целый мир!
Прости, что я опять на русском,
Но не утихнут звуки лир
И крепкий перегар искусства.