Koltsov was born for the poetry that he created. He was the son of the people in the true sense of this phrase. The surroundings in which he was brought up were basically the same as those of peasants, even if slightly better. Koltsov grew up among steppes and peasants. He loved with his soul, heart, and blood both Russian nature and all that is good and beautiful, that exists as a beginning, as an opportunity, in the character of a Russian villager. This was not merely a source of inspiration, a fantasy, or a dream for him, but real love.

In Voronezh, Stankevich used to go to the local library for books. There he used to meet a poor young man of humble station, modest and melancholy. It turned out that he was the son of a cattle-dealer who had business with Stankevich’s father over supplies. <…> Shyly and timidly the youth confessed that he had himself tried his hand at writing verses and, blushing, ventured to show them. Stankevich was amazed at the immense talent not conscious nor confident of itself. From that minute he did not let him go until all Russia was reading Koltsov’s songs with enthusiasm.