Introduction Poem by Igor Severyanin

Im nightingale: no traits I carry
And without special depth I sing.
But everyone, from crone to baby,
Will know me, singer of the spring.

Im nightingale, I am a graybird,
But like a rainbow is my song.
I only have a single habit:
To other lands to lure the throng.

Im nightingale! What for, then, so
Is godless critic with his scorn?
Seek, swine, the treasure in a trough,
And not in garlands made of thorns!

Im nightingale, and, beside singing,
No other use can come of me.
I am so wondrous beyond reason
That Reason bows before my feet!