Violin and a little nervous – Vladimir Mayakovsky


The violin was wrung out, begging,
and suddenly burst into tears
so childish,
that the drum could not stand:
"Good, well, well!»
I'm tired myself,
did not finish listening to violin speech,
slipped onto the burning Kuznetsky
and left.
The orchestra was watching, as
the violin was crying
without words,
no tact,
and only somewhere
stupid plate
got out:
"What is it?»
"Like this?»
And when the helicon -
copper-horned,
sweaty,
shouted:
"Fool,
cry,
wipe it off!» —
I wake up,
staggering, climbed through the notes,
screeching music stands,
for some reason shouted:
"God!»,
threw himself on a wooden neck:
"You know what, violin?
We are terribly similar:
me too
harvest -
but I can not prove anything!»
The musicians laugh:
"Stick like!
Came to the wooden bride!
Head!»
I don't care!
I'm good.
"You know what, violin?
Let's -
we will live together!
BUT?»

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Sergey Yesenin