Lyrics Владимир Маяковский - Подлиза

This kind of people -
                   quietly
and formless,
        like a jelly, -
very many
         of them
in our
     days
       go out into people.
Hood with Mind
       and body withered
Petr Ivanovich Boldashkin.
In outrageous pimples
in vain
 blushes
      on shoulders
not bashka -
       but the knob.
This fruit
         now it's warm
the sun
      gentle bosses.
Where is the reason?
         What's the secret?
I
 I think often.
A life
    him
      goes in harmony;
on him
     I will not cast a shadow on myself.
Treasure it -
        his talent:
tender
    way
       getting around.
Licking her leg,
       licking his hand,
licks into the belt,
         licks below -
like a kitten
          licks
              bitch,
like a kitten
       cat licks.
And the language ?!
    At thirty meters
catching up
    superiors
            got out -
soapy the whole,
         already can shave,
even
 without brushing.
All praise,
          having fallen into
              in the rage,
what
  fantasy will allow -
your catarrh,
        and rank,
            and length of service,
your valor
          and corns.
And he
   send
      ranks,
on him
    at home
        Equal.
Somewhere
    as if
       awarded
almost -
      reins of government.
Time
 already
    in the hands of the reins,
of all
  reducing
      to subtle looks,
razzlyuyavit:
        "Respect,
respect
   superiors
          you need ... & quot;
we
 we look,
      dejectedly aching,
how it grows
   from their brethren
arch-hierarchy
in bullying
        over democracy.
Blowing mop
       on horseback,
           bottom,
it would be
       all,
          who succumbed,
all,
   who are in love with sublimation,
of all
  guardianship
                       sublim.

1958