Horse fire – Vladimir Mayakovsky

to his father he claimed three hundred times,
for the purchase of a chase:
- I grow up as a cavalryman.
Serve, father, horse! —
What to think about here for a long time?
in the shop
a lot to you.
And to the shop
son and father go
buy a four-legged.
In the shop they
this answer:
- There are no horses today.
But, of course,
maybe master
make a horse
of any suit. —
Here comes the master. He says:
- It is necessary
get the cardboard.
Horse-like body
need to be made of cardboard. —
All went with an important gait
to the stationery factory.
The worker began to ask them:
- You are fat
or thin? —
and took out three sheets
excellent cardboard.
- By the way
here you have some glue.
To glue -
pour glue. —
the, who went,
knows himself,
no ride without a wheel.
Here they are at the joiner.
Im a carpenter, of course, Work.
smooth, and not wrong,
made them wheels.
There are wheels,
no mane,
on the tail of the hair.
Where can we find a ponytail?
where are the brushes and bristles.
The bristler did not object, —
so that the horse comes out wonderful,
for the tail
and horse mane.
Realized -
no nails.
A nail is needed everywhere.
They led the father
to the blacksmith's forge.
Glad blacksmith.
- Please, guests!
There you are
the best carnation. —
Before you work sit down,
examined -
is everything there?
And in one voice they said:
- It is not enough to take cardboard and hair.
The poor horse will come out,
boring and pale.
Get an artist and paint,
to paint
wool and eyes. —
To the artist,
smart and fast,
our cavalryman runs in.
- Comrade,
You can not
dye a horse's fur?
- I can. —
And went out in person
with different paint.
Made a horse body,
then things started to boil.
Company rest of the day
did not waste
and went to tinker a horse
from the best materials.
Together we got down to business.
Cut a sheet of white cardboard,
the sheet is soaked with glue.
Made the horse's hooves,
bristle bristle put in a ponytail,
blacksmith drives a carnation.
The carpenter's hand is fast -
the carpenter scraped the wheels.
The artist climbs with a brush,
paints eyes.
What kind of horse,
what a horse -
hot, than fire!
At least forward,
even back,
if you want to trot,
if you want it.
Blue eyes,
side in yellow apples.
and he is saddled,
the harness is tightly braided.
On a woven back -
help Budyonny!

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Boris Pasternak