Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky
From Street To Street
steal the first cubes
jumping from the windows
of fleeting houses.
bend in electric-wire nooses!
The giraffe-hide sky unlooses
motley carrot-top bangs.
of patternless fields
is dappled like trout.
Concealed by clocktower faces,
rails from the muzzle of a tram.
We are enslaved!
the soul's bodice.
Cry all you may:
'I didn't want it!' -
From the chimney
a whipping wind tears
a gray tuft of wool.
A balding lamppost
lustfully strips off
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Comments about this poem (From Street To Street by Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky )
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