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Best Famous Vladimir Mayakovsky Poems

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by Vladimir Mayakovsky | |

Past One O’Clock ...

 Past one o’clock.
You must have gone to bed.
The Milky Way streams silver through the night.
I’m in no hurry; with lightning telegrams I have no cause to wake or trouble you.
And, as they say, the incident is closed.
Love’s boat has smashed against the daily grind.
Now you and I are quits.
Why bother then To balance mutual sorrows, pains, and hurts.
Behold what quiet settles on the world.
Night wraps the sky in tribute from the stars.
In hours like these, one rises to address The ages, history, and all creation.
Transcribed: by Mitch Abidor.


by Vladimir Mayakovsky | |

Our March

 Beat the squares with the tramp of rebels!
Higher, rangers of haughty heads!
We'll wash the world with a second deluge, 
Now’s the hour whose coming it dreads.
Too slow, the wagon of years, The oxen of days — too glum.
Our god is the god of speed, Our heart — our battle drum.
Is there a gold diviner than ours/ What wasp of a bullet us can sting? Songs are our weapons, our power of powers, Our gold — our voices — just hear us sing! Meadow, lie green on the earth! With silk our days for us line! Rainbow, give color and girth To the fleet-foot steeds of time.
The heavens grudge us their starry glamour.
Bah! Without it our songs can thrive.
Hey there, Ursus Major, clamour For us to be taken to heaven alive! Sing, of delight drink deep, Drain spring by cups, not by thimbles.
Heart step up your beat! Our breasts be the brass of cymbals.


by Vladimir Mayakovsky | |

Call To Account!

 The drum of war thunders and thunders.
It calls: thrust iron into the living.
From every country slave after slave are thrown onto bayonet steel.
For the sake of what? The earth shivers hungry and stripped.
Mankind is vapourised in a blood bath only so someone somewhere can get hold of Albania.
Human gangs bound in malice, blow after blow strikes the world only for someone’s vessels to pass without charge through the Bosporus.
Soon the world won’t have a rib intact.
And its soul will be pulled out.
And trampled down only for someone, to lay their hands on Mesopotamia.
Why does a boot crush the Earth — fissured and rough? What is above the battles’ sky - Freedom? God? Money! When will you stand to your full height, you, giving them your life? When will you hurl a question to their faces: Why are we fighting? Translated: by Lika Galkina with Jasper Goss, 2005.


by Vladimir Mayakovsky | |

Attitude To A Miss

 That night was to decide
if she and I
were to be lovers.
Under cover of darkness no one would see, you see.
I bent over her, it’s the truth, and as I did, it’s the truth, I swear it, I said like a kindly parent: “Passion’s a precipice – so won’t you please move away? Move away, please!”