Aviadni

Those days
the propellers sang.
Trumpet and prose
and in a song manner!
During these days
not in words,
in practice -
the proletarian became winged.
Just
buzzed by order
by ranks
working mouth:
- The proletariat,
pretty
stare down!
The proletariat -
on the plane! —
already
by the eyes
the seams are nearly torn.
Stare,
forgetting about dreams and dreams,—
this
"Moscow Bolshevik"
взлетает
over the airfield.
More,
wider than a summer week.
Sing them,
song mode.
During these days
not in words -
in practice
the proletarian became winged.

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Vladimir Mayakovsky
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