Paris – Vladimir Mayakovsky


(Conversations with the Eiffel Tower)

Scarred with a million feet.
Exhausted by a thousand tires.
I surf Paris -
terribly lonely,
to yellow or faces,
to yellow nor souls.
Around me -
auto fantasy dance,
around me -
from animal fish muzzles -
since Ludoviks
water whistles, gushing.
I go out
на Place de la Concorde.
I wait,
until,
raising the carved head,
house surveillance umayan,
to me,
to the Bolshevik,
on turnout
Eiffel comes out of the fog.
- T-sh-sh-sh,
tower,
spank quietly! —
will see! —
moon - guillotine horror.
I'll tell you what
(whispered in a whisper,
to her
in the radio ear
I whisper,
I'm buzzing):
- I have propagandized things and buildings.
We -
just waiting for your consent.
Tower -
want to lead the uprising?
Tower -
мы
we choose you as a leader!
Not for you -
a model of machine genius -
here
melt away from Apollinaire's
virsh.
For you
not a place - a place of decay -
Paris prostitutes,
poets,
stock exchange.
Metro agreed,
metro with me -
они
from their lined insides
the audience will be spat out -
washed off with blood
off the walls
perfume and powder posters.
They made sure -
do not pour them
the wagons of the rich.
They are not slaves!
They made sure -
them
more to faces
our posters,
fight posters.
Tower -
don't be afraid of the streets!
If a
the subway will not release street soil -
priming
strip the rails.
I'm raising a rail riot.
Are afraid?
Inns will intercede in flocks?
Are afraid?
Rive Gauche will come to the rescue.
Не бойтесь!
I settled with bridges.
By swimming
the river
swim across
not easy!
Bridges,
inflamed by the movement of evil,
rise at once from the Parisian sides.
Bridges will riot.
At the first call -
passers-by are showered with bulls on the stone.
All things are heaving.
Things are unbearable.
will be held
Fifteen years
or twenty,
will sag the steel,
and themselves
things
here
will go
Montmartre
on sale at night.
Let's go, tower!
To us!
You -
there,
we,
нужней!
Come to us!
In the glitter of steel,
in the smoke -
we will meet you.
We will meet you more tenderly,
than the first loved ones.
We go to Moscow!
We
в Москве
space.
You
- each! —
will have on the street.
we
we will groom you:
a hundred times
per day
before the suns we will clear your steel and copper.
Let be
your city,
Paris smart and stupid,
Paris of the tabloid rotozei,
ends one, in a continuous warehouse of the Louvre,
in the old woods of Boulogne
and museums.
Forward!
Step four powerful paws,
nailed by the drawings of the Eiffel,
so that your forehead in our sky,
so that our stars drift before you!
Make up your mind, tower, —
now get up everyone,
turning Paris from top to bottom!
Let's go!
To us!
To us, in USSR!
Come to us -
I
I'll get you a visa!

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Sergey Yesenin