Past one o'clock...

Past one o’clock. You must have gone to bed.
The Milky Way streams silver in the night.
I’m in no hurry; and with lightning telegrams
I have no cause to wake and trouble you.
As they say, the incident is closed.
Love’s boat has smashed against the daily grind.
Now you and I are quits. Why bother then
To balance mutual sorrows, pains, and hurts.
Behold what quiet settles on the world.
Night wraps the sky in tribute from the stars.
In hours like these, one rises and addresses
The ages, history, and all creation.

This is the last poem Vladimir Mayakovsky wrote (1930). Two days later, he committed suicide.