Текст песни Владимир Маяковский - Флейта-позвоночник

Prologue

For all of you,
who liked or liked,
stored by icons at the soul in the cave,
As a cup of wine in the toasting table,
I lift the filled skull with filled verses.

Increasingly I think -
is not it better
the bullet point at its end.
Today I
just in case
I give a farewell concert.

Memory!
Collect the brain in the hall
favorite inexhaustible queue.
Laughter from eyes to eyes.
By the old weddings the night ranks.
From the body to the body, pour out the fun.
Let the night be forgotten.
I'll play the flute today.
On your own backbone.

1

Versts of streets with swings of steps mnu.
Where I'm going, this hell is melting!
What heavenly Hoffmann
you thought up, damn ?!

Storm of fun street Uzki.
Feast of smart and scooped cherpal.
I think so.
Thoughts, blood clots,
sick and clotted, climb out of the skull.

To me,
miracle-worker of all that is festive,
most on a holiday to go out with no one.
I'll take it now and crash backwards
and I'll mop my head with the stone Nevsky!
So I blasphemed.
I yelled that there was no god,
and God is one of the scorched depths,
that before her the mountain will become agitated and tremble,
brought out and ordered:
love!

God is pleased.
Under the sky in steeper
exhausted man was wild and extinct.
God rubs the palms of the handles.
God thinks:
Wait, Vladimir!
This is for him, to him,
so as not to guess who you are,
I thought of giving you a real husband
and put the human notes on the piano.
If you suddenly sneak up to the bedroom door,
cross over you stitching blanket,
I know -
smells of wool,
and the gray meat of the devil is eaten out.

And I instead of it until early morning
in horror, that they loved to take you away,
tossed about
and screams in lines bounded,
already half crazy jeweler.
You should play cards!
In the wine
rinse your throat with your heart.

Do not you!
I do not want!
Does not matter
I know,
I'll soon die.

If it's true that you are,
God,
Oh my God,
if the stars are woven by the stars,
if this pain,
daily multiplied,
you are sent down, Lord, torture,
put the chain on.
Wait for my visit.
I'm neat,
I will not slow down for a day.
Listen,
The Most High Inquisitor!

I tighten my mouth.
Scream none of them
I will not let go of my bitten lips.
Tie me to the comets, as to the tails of horses,
and get out,
tearing at the star teeth.
Or here's what:
when my soul is evicted,
will come out to your judgment,
frowning tupenko,
you,
Milky Way throwing the gallows,
take me and lift me, the criminal.
Do whatever you want.
If you want, fourth.
I'll wash your hands, righteous.
Only -
you hear! -
take the damned one out,
which he made my beloved!

Versts of streets with swings of steps mnu.
Where I'm going, this hell is melting!
What heavenly Hoffmann
you thought up, damn ?!

2

And the sky,
in the smoke forgot that the blue,
and clouds, peeled refugees for sure,
vyzarju in my last love,
Bright as a blush in a consumptive.

I will gladly laugh with a roar
osprey
who forgot about the house and coziness.
People,
Listen!
Get out of the trenches.
After you finish.

Even,
from blood swinging like Bacchus,
drunken fight is coming -
words of love and then not old.
Lovely Germans!
I know,
on your lips
Goethe's Gretchen.

Frenchman,
smiling, on the bayonet it's dead,
with a smile, an aviator is shot down,
if you remember
in the mouth kiss
yours, La Traviata.

But I do not care for the pink flesh,
which will be wiped out for centuries.
Today to the new feet lie!
I sing you,
colored,
The redhead.

Perhaps, from these days,
creepy, like a bayonet point,
when the whiskered beard centuries,
we will only
you
and I,
Rushing from you from city to city.

You will be given over the sea,
hide in the hole at night -
I'll kiss you through the fogs of London
the fiery lips of lanterns.

In the heat of the desert you will stretch the caravans,
where the lions are on the alert, -
you
under the dust, the wind torn,
I'll put the burning cheek on the Sahara.

You put a smile on your lips,
you look -
a bullfighter is good!
And suddenly I
jealousy of methna in lodges
the dying eye of a bull.

You will carry on the bridge a step scattered -
think,
well under would.
It's me
under the bridge spread the Seine,
call,
I put on rotten teeth.

With another you will light in the fire of trotters
Arrow or Sokolniki.
It's me, having climbed there high,
the moon, waiting, and naked.

Strong,
I will need them -
are ordered:
kill yourself in the war!
The last will be
your name,
gilled on the kernel torn by the kernel.

Crown will end?
St. Helena?
Storm of life saddled with trees,
I am an equal candidate
and the king of the universe,
and on
shackles.

To be king is assigned to me -
your face
on the sunny gold of my coins
I command the people:
vycheknani!
And there,
where the world tipped the tundra,
where with the north wind the river conducts the auction, -
on the chain I will scribble the name Lilino
and the chain is healed in the darkness of hard labor.

Listen, forgetting that the sky is blue,
bristling,
beasts for sure!
This, perhaps,
the last love in the world
has become a blush of a consumptive.

3

Forget the year, day, day.
Zaprus alone with a sheet of paper I.
Be created, enlightened by the suffering of words
superhuman magic!

Today, only came in to you,
felt -
the house is not right.
You had something in the silk
dress,
and the smell of incense expanded in the air.
Glad?
Cold
"highly".
The fence is broken by confusion.
I am desperate, burning and feverish.

Listen,
does not matter
Do not hide the corpse.
Scary word for a head!
Does not matter
your every muscle
like a shout
blows