Person

priest of the world, otpustitelya all sins,
– Sun hand on my head.
Of pious monks
– night robe on my shoulders.
Days tysyachelistoe love my whole Gospel.
Ringing with pain Pray Love,
soul
otherwise procession sistent,
hear
your, land:
“Nunc Dimittis”!

The Ark of the night,
new Noah,
I'm waiting -
in flood Reese
Now come,
come for me
and the node of the earth shall cut
sekirami Salutes.
is!
came.
Raskutalas.
rays everywhere!
they scrape.
Stuck loop utlo,
and quietly enter weekdays
with their husks commotion.

the sun again.
Governor calls fire.
drums dawn,
and there,
for the earth's dirt you!
The sun!
Well
his
crier
and did you forget?

Christmas Mayakovsky
Let be, nauskat contemporaries,
write stupid historians: “boring
and uninteresting life lived a remarkable poet”.

I know,
not call upon my name
sinner.
choking in hell.
To the applause of the priests
my curtain falls on Calvary.
So that's going to
In the Summer Garden
drink my morning coffee.

In the sky of my Bethlehem
no not burn marks,
no one bothered
graves
sleep kudrogolovym Magi.
It was absolutely everything
- ad nauseam the same –
day
My descent to you.
and no one had thought to hint
the near
indelicate star:
“Star - mol -
laziness shine vain you!
If not
a Human birth day,
the line l,
star,
then a
celebrate?!”

try:
speaking fry
extract strings seine
and sing,
sing gold
We sing a fishing prowess.
How did
I myself did not sing,
if all I -
solid prodigy,
if my every move –
great,
inexplicable miracle.

Two sides of the bypass.
In each
see pyatyluchyyu.
It called “Hands”.
A pair of beautiful hands!
Note:
better
neck can choose
and wallpaper and continuing around.

Open the box of the skull –
sparkle
most precious mind.
Whether there is a,
What I could not b!
Want to,
I can invent new
animal?
will walk
tailed
or trenogoe.
Who kissed me –
tell,
whether there is a
my saliva is sweeter juice.
Resting in it I
beautiful
red tongue.
“Oh-go-go” can -
It will fill high. high.
“O-GO-GO” can -
and - the poet hunting falcon -
vote
gently descend to the lower classes.
Just not sochtesh!
Finally,
so in the summer
winter,
I can turn into wine so that he could -
I have
a wool vest
beats
unusually lump.
Hit the right - the right wedding.
Left grohnet - trembling mirages.
Whom I also
love would be strewn?
that lieth
drunk,
Costumed nights?

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Vladimir Mayakovsky
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