Jubilee – Vladimir Mayakovsky

Alexander Sergeevich,
let me introduce.
Mayakovsky.

Give me your hand
Here is the ribcage.
Listen,
no more knocking, a moan;
I'm worried about him,
in a puppy a humble lion cub.
I never knew,
what so much
thousand tons
in my
shamefully frivolous little head.
I drag you.
Wonder, of course?
Squeezed?
Painfully?
excuse me, expensive.
I have,
yes and in you,
eternity in stock.
What do we
to lose
an hour or two?!
Будто бы вода —
let's
rush, chatty,
as if spring -
free
and uninhibited!
In the sky over there
moon
so young,
that her
without satellites
and release is risky.
I
Now
free
from love
and from posters.
Skin
jealousy bear
lies the claw.
Can
make sure,
that the earth is sloping,-
sit down
on your own buttocks
and roll!
No,
I will not impose on the black melancholic,
and I don't want to talk
with no one.
Only
gills rhymes
topyt faster
in such, like us,
on the poetic sand.
Harm is a dream,
and it's useless to dream,
надо
news
служебную нуду.
But it happens -
a life
gets up in a different cut,
and great
you understand
through nonsense.
Us
lyrics
with hostility
repeatedly attacked,
looking for speeches
accurate
and naked.
But poetry
the most delicious thing:
exists -
and not in the tooth.
for example,
this -
says or bleats?
Blue-faced,
in orange mustache,
Nebuchadnezzar
biblical -
"Koopsakh".
Give us glasses!
I know
old way
upstairs
blow annihilation,
but look -
of
float out
Red и White Star’ы
with a heap
разнообразных виз.
I am pleased with you,-
Work,
what are you at the table.
Muse is
cleverly
pulls you by the tongue.
Like this
у вас
Olga used to say?..
Not Olga!
from letter
Onegin Tatiana.
- Say,
your husband
fool
and the old gelding,
I love you,
be sure to be mine,
i'm now
I must be sure in the morning,
that I will see you in the afternoon.-
There was everything:
and standing under the window,
letters,
shaking nerve jelly.
here
when
and not able to grieve -
this,
Alexander Sergeyevich,
much harder.
In the moon, Mayakovsky!
Beacon to the south!
Heart
drag out with rhymes -
here
and love came skiff,
dear Vladimi Vladimych.
No,
not old age this name!
Fall
forward stirrup,
I
with pleasure
I can handle two,
but to piss off -
and with three.
They say -
i-n-d-i-v-i-d-u-a-l-e-n!
Between us…
so that the censor doesn't poke around.
I will give you -
say -
видали
even
two
enamored members of the All-Russian Central Executive Committee.
Here -
let gossip,
amuse the soul with it.
Alexander Sergeyevich,
don't listen to them!
Can,
I
one
really sorry,
what today
you are not alive.
To me
in life
with you
would need to come to an agreement.
Soon here
и я
die
and I will be dumb.
After death
us
stand almost next to:
you are on Pe,
and I
on em.
Who is between us?
who tell me to know?!
Too
my country
beggar by poets.
Между нами
- that's the trouble -
Nadson talked
We will ask,
to his
somewhere
of the United States!
A. Nekrasov
Kolya,
son of the late Alyosha,-
he is in cards,
he is in verse,
so
not bad looking.
Do you know him?
here he is
good man.
This
our company -
let it be.
What about contemporaries?!
Wouldn't miscalculate,
for you
giving fifty.
From yawning
cheekbones
unfolds already!
Dorogoichenko,
Gerasimov,
Kirillov,
Childbirth -
which one
one sample landscape!
Well Yesenin,
peasant pack.
Laugh!
Cow
in gloves.
Once you listen ...
but this is from the chorus!
Balalaechnik!
must,
so the poet
and there was a master in life.
We are strong,
like alcohol in Poltava damask.
Well, and what about Bezymensky?!
So…
nothing…
carrot coffee.
true,
there is
у нас
Aseev
How much.
This can.
Grab it
my.
But you must
how much!
Petite,
but family.
Were alive -
would become
according to Lef co-editor.
I would
and propaganda
I could trust you.
If I would show:
- like that, they say,
and so ...
You could -
у вас
good syllable.
I would give you
fatness
and cloth,
in advertising b
gave out
rubber ladies.
(I even
iambicated,
so only
to be
more pleasant to you.)
You now
would have to
throw iambic burnt.
today
our feathers -
bayonet
yes fork tines,-
battles of revolutions
more serious than "Poltava",
and love
more grandiose
Onegin love.
Fear the Pushkinists.
Old Brain Plyushkin,
holding a feather,
will climb
with rusty.
- Also, мол,
у лефов
appeared
Pushkin.
Here is arap!
but competes -
with Derzhavin ...
I love you,
but alive,
not a mummy.
They stated
textbook gloss.
You
to my mind
in life
- I think -
raged too.
African!
Son of a bitch d'Anthes!
Great secular pity.
We'd ask him:
- And who are your parents?
What did you do
to the 17th year? —
Only this Dantes would have seen.
However,
well chatter!
Spiritism like.
So to speak,
slave of honor ...
hit by a bullet ...
Their
and until today
walks a lot -
all kinds
hunters
to our wives.
Good with us
in the Land of the Soviets.
You can live,
you can work together.
But
poets,
unfortunately, no -
however, can,
it is not necessary.
Well, time to:
dawn
beamed out.
As if
policeman
didn't look for.
On Tverskoy Boulevard
very used to you.
Well, let's,
plant
on the pedestal.
I'd
monument during life
relying on rank.
Would lay
dynamite
- well,
drizzle!
I hate
all kinds of carrion!
Adore
all kinds of life!

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Alexander Pushkin