№2 arts Army Order

This is for you -
questioned baritones -
from Adam
to our age,
stunning theaters called brothels
arias Romeov and Juliet.

This is for you -
pentra,
as ripe as horses,

gnawing and laughing beauty of Russia,
hiding in workshops,
the old dragon
flowers and bodies.

This is for you -
covered with leaves of mysticism,
forehead wrinkles tear -
futuristic,
imaginative,
acmeistics,

tangled in a web of rhymes.
This is for you -
on a shaky changeable
sleek hairstyles,
on paws - varnish,
proletarians,
putting patches
on a faded Pushkin tailcoat.
This is for you -
dancing, blowing,

and openly surrendering,
and sinning in secret,
drawing for themselves the future
huge academic ration.
I tell you
I -
ingenious or not ingenious,
tossed trinkets
and working in Rost,
I tell you -

until you were kicked out with butts:
drop it!

drop it!
forget,
spit
and on rhymes,
and on arias,
and on the rose bush,
and other melehlunds
from the arsenals of the arts,

Who is interested in this,
what - “Brother, here's the poor!
How he loved
and how unhappy he was ...”?
Masters,
not long haired preachers
we need now.
Listen!
Locomotives groan,
blows in the cracks and into the floor:

“Give coal from the Don!
Locksmiths,
mechanics in the depot!”

Every river has its source,
lying with a hole in the side,
the ship was docked:
“Give oil from Baku!”
While we can, we argue,
seeking the innermost meaning:
“Give us new shapes!” –

screaming through things.

No fools,
waiting, what will come out of his mouth,
stand in front of “maestres” a crowd of razin.
Comrades,
give new art -
such,
to drag the republic out of the mud.

[1921]

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Vladimir Mayakovsky
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