Vladimir Mayakovsky
Vladimir Mayakovsky
Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovskywas a Russian Soviet poet, playwright, artist and stage and film actor...
hair voice soul
There’s no grandfatherly fondness in me, There are no gray hairs in my soul! Shaking the world with my voice and grinning, I pass you by, - handsome, Twentytwoyearold.
rude soul pavement
On the pavement of my trampled soul the steps of madmen weave the prints of rude crude words.
play two soul
Gentle souls! You play your love on the violin. The crude ones play it on the drums violently. But can you turn yourselves inside out, like me And become just two lips entirely?
comrade faster march
Comrade life,/ let us/ march faster,/ March/ faster through what's left/ of the five-year plan.
age-and-aging fondness gray hairs might shake streak walk year
No gray hairs streak my soul, no grandfatherly fondness there! I shake the world with the might of my voice, and walk --handsome, twenty-two year old.
against boat draw life list mutual shattered useless
Love's boat has been shattered against the life of everyday. You and I are quits, and it's useless to draw up a list of mutual hurts, sorrows, and pains.
days difficult equipped life planet poorly
Our planet / is poorly equipped / for delight./ One must snatch / gladness / from the days that are. / In this life / it's not difficult to die. / To make life / is more difficult by far.
against boat crashed daily love mutual point
The love boat has crashed against the daily routine. You and I, we are quits, and there is no point in listing mutual pains, sorrows, and hurts.
hurt pain stupid
Love's ship has foundered on the rocks of life. We're quits: stupid to draw up a list of mutual sorrows, hurts and pains.
stars mean want
Listen! If stars are lit It means there is someone who needs it, It means someone wants them to be, That someone deems those specks of spit Magnificent!
night delirium bigs
On I’ll pass, dragging my huge love behind me. On what feverish night, deliria-ridden, by what Goliaths was I begot – I, so big and by no one needed?
heart years oxen
Too slow, the wagons of years, The oxen of days--too glum. Our god is the god of speed, Our heart--our battle-drum.
poetry house made
My verse has brought me no roubles to spare: no craftsmen have made mahogany chairs for my house.
cities lines rhyme
A line is a fuse that's lit. The line smolders, the rhyme explodes— and by a stanza a city is blown to bits.