Текст песни Владимир Владимирович Маяковский - Хорошее отношение к лошадям

The hoofs were beating.
They sang like:
-Mushroom.
Grab.
Coffin.
Grub.-
In the wind,
ice is shod,
the street slipped.
Horse for croup
crashed,
and immediately
for the gapers of onlookers,
trousers came Kuznetsky
to click,
crowded together,
laughter rattled and zazvyakal:
- The horse has fallen!
"The horse has fallen!"
Kuznetsky laughed.
Only one I
His voice did not interfere with howling him.
Approached
and I see
horse eyes ...
The street toppled over
flows in its own way ...
I walked over and I see-
for a drop of a drop
on the muzzle rolls,
hiding in wool ...
And some kind of general
bestial longing, plesch,
poured out of me
and broke into a rustle.

"Horse, do not.
Horse, listen,
What do you think you are?
My little child,
we are all a bit of a horse,
each of us is a horse in his own way. "

May be-
old-
and did not need a nanny,
maybe her thought is mine
                             seemed to have gone,

only
horse
rushed
rose to her feet,
rusted
and went.
Tailed with a tail,
redheaded child.
A cheerful,
became a stall.
And everything seemed to her-
she is a foal,
and it was worth living,
and it was worth working.