About the essence of love – Vladimir Mayakovsky

Letter to Comrade Kostrov from Paris about the essence of love

Sorry
me,
Campfires friend,
with inherent
spiritual breadth,
what part
on the Paris of the released stanzas
on the lyrics
I
I will waste.
Imagine:
входит
beauty in the hall,
in fur
and beads rimmed.
I
took this beauty
and said:
- you said correctly
or wrong?-
I, friend,-
from Russia,
I'm famous in my country,
I've seen
maidens prettier,
I've seen
girls are slimmer.
For girls
poets of any kind.
I'm smart
and vocalist,
I speak my teeth -
only
listen agree.
Do not catch
me
of dogwood,
on a passerby
couple of feelings.
I am
forever
wounded by love -
I can hardly drag.
To me
love
not measure by a wedding:
fell out of love -
floated.
To me, friend,
supremely
do not care
on the dome.
Well go into details,
come on jokes,
me, beauty,
not twenty,-
thirty…
with a ponytail.
Love
not that,
to boil cool,
not that,
what they burn with coals,
and in that,
what stands behind the mountains of breasts
over
jungle hair.
To love -
it means:
deep into the yard
run in
and until the rookie night,
glittering with an ax,
chopping wood,
by force
his
playfully.
To love -
it is with a sheet,
insomnia
torn,
break off,
jealous of Copernicus,
his,
and not the husband of Marya Ivanna,
counting
his
rival.
Us
love
not a paradise to house,
us
love
buzzing about that,
what's again
put into operation
hearts
cold motor.
You
to Moscow
broke the thread.
Years -
distance.
As if
you would
explain
this state?
On the ground
lights - up to the sky ...
В синем небе
stars -
to the point.
If I
was not a poet,
I would
would become
stargazer.
Raises area noise,
crews are moving,
I go,
writing rhymes
in a notebook.
Mchat
auto
on the street,
and not knocked to the ground.
Understand
clever:
man -
ecstatic.
A host of visions
and ideas
full
to the lid.
There would be
and bears
wings would grow.
And so
with some
penny canteen,
when
it boiled,
from the throat
to the stars
the word soars
a golden comet.
Flattened
tail
heaven by a third,
glitters
and his plumage burns,
so that two lovers
look at the stars
of theirs
gazebo lilac.
To raise,
and news,
and attract,
which are weakened by the eye.
So that the enemy
head
cut off the shoulders
tailed
shining saber.
Himself
until the last knock in the chest,
how on a date,
idle.
I listen:
love will hum -
human,
simple.
Hurricane,
the fire,
water
come up in a murmur.
Who
will be able to cope?
You can?
Try ...

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Joseph Brodsky