Tired

Did not stay at home.
Annensky, Tyutchev, Fet.
Again,
longing for people led,
I go
to cinematography, to taverns, in the cafe.
At the table.
Radiance.
Hope shines for a foolish heart.

And if in a week
so the Russian has changed,
that I will burn my cheeks with the lights of his lips.
Cautiously raise my eyes,
I dig in a pile of jackets.
“ago,
naz-zad,
ago!”
Fear yells from the heart.
Rushes in the face, hopeless and boring.

Not obeying.
I see,
to the right a little,
unknown on land, not in the depths of water,
working diligently on calf leg
mysterious creature.
You look and don't know: eats or not he eats.
You look and don't know: breathing or not breathing.
Two yards of faceless pink dough:
even if the label was embroidered in a corner.

Just swaying down on your shoulders
soft folds of shiny cheeks.
Frenzy heart,
vomits and tosses.
“Back now!
What else?”
I look to the left.
Open mouth.
Turned to the first, and cared otherwise:
for the one who saw the second image

the first -
resurrected Leonardo da Vinci.
No people.
Do you understand
cry the thousand pangs?
The soul does not want to go dumb,
and say to?
Throwing myself to the ground,
stone bark
isotra face in blood, tear washing asphalt.

A thousand kisses covering my lips
smart tram face.
I'll leave the house.
Stick to the wallpaper.
Where the rose is more tender and tea?
Do you want -
you
pockmarked
I will read “As low as mooing”?

For the story
When everyone settles in heaven and hell,

the land will be summed up -
remember:
at 1916 year
beautiful people disappeared from Petrograd.

[1916]

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Vladimir Mayakovsky
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