A machine.
Sun penny –
something will turn,
hisses disgustingly.
In two minutes,
something like this,
a three-penny climbs out of the car
What got pissed off by a bunch?!
In store and easier,
and cheaper,
and better.


his son
or evon brother,
joking beyond measure,
inflated the car billions of times
and placed all over the RSFSR.
From the night people become shadows.
Heavy – drawbridge! –
swallows the door of the institution
wriggling human tail.
The door is parted.
Still not narrow to them!
Through the bars of stationery barricades,
ripping out the pass, goes overlooked.
The human river has spilled through corridors.
(First thorn –
first howl –
“Kicked off the queue!”
“Siege without labor!”)
– Seek and find, –
go and “ryash” her! –
which “incoming” and which “outgoing”?!
Will be found in an hour or two.
For a ruble of paper – very few! –
stuck in with a shaking hand
into the mouth of an incoming magazine.
The wheels spun.
Lady to Lady
send a piece of paper, decorating with numbers.
From the ladies, a piece of paper spread to the secretary.
Six secretaries from junior to senior!
A piece of paper reached the eldest at lunchtime.
The eldest broke up.
Lost track.
Count the stars?
You will go crazy!
I don't count instances – swim by yourself!
The paper floated, barely moved.
The shafts of the machines were idly tossing and turning.
I poked my pockets,
stuck in portfolios,
put on the shelf,
put on tables.
Under a pile of the same
collegium tables
I waited,
when they raise it up,
and again
under the cloth
in months of bliss
dozing in the thirty-third commission.
The paper body first got fat.
Then clip-pads were added.
Then the paper grew into “a business” –
went to a huge blue folder.
Zav ee wrote to fame,
from zava to zamzav returned back,
zamzav signed,
and vice versa
to the head
the paper returned for signature again.
Without a signature, we will not find a place under it,
but again
paper dragged,
from the shoulder scattering seals and brands
for every
clean yet
And so,
in a year,
opened magazine outgoing mouth.
AND, creaked feathers,
threw out
unusable paper – per million.

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Vladimir Mayakovsky
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