Текст песни Владимир Маяковский - Любовь

World
   again
        overgrown with flowers,
by the world
      spring view.
And again
       rises
             unresolved issue -
about women
          and about love.
We love the parade
              smart song.
We speak beautifully
               going to the rally.
But often
        under this
                 moldy,
old little old little bull.
Sings at the meeting:
                "Come on, comrades ..."
And at home
       forgetting the solo aria
yelling at his wife
             that cabbage soup is not in rich
So what
     cucumbers
           poorly salted.
Lives with the other -
               a kiosk wide
linen -
       shantannaya diva.
But with a thin stocking
                reproaches the wife:
- You compromise
                 before the collective .-
They climb to anyone
                 would be with legs.
Five women
        will change
                 during the day.
We supposedly
           Liberty,
                   not monogamy.
Down with philistinism
               and prejudice!
From flower to flower
                  young dragonfly
flutters
        flies
              and rushing around.
To one
       in the world
             seems evil -
this is
   alimentary worker.
He is glad to die
saving a third
three years
        happy to plead:
and I supposedly not me
and she is not mine
and I generally
          castrate.
And they love
       so be
               faithful nun -
tyranny
       jealousy
                every trifle
and measures
       love
             on a caliber revolver,
wrong
        in the back of the head
                 bullet for nothing.
Fourth -
          the hero of a dozen battles,
and so
      which is expensive
is running
     in a fright
               from my wife’s shoes
simple shoes of Mostorg.
And the other
        arrow of love
                    differently marks
confused
     - a kind of child -
catch
         beloved
                in romance networks
with increasing
            tariff subordinate
                                   the grid ...
On the female line
Neither are you the tabernacles of paradise.
Simple guy
picked up
         mistress.
He work
           and her
               do not hold in any way -
running after a flare
                every boulevard.
Well,
      sit
          and crying
                   Neil nilsya.
Oh! -
     The groom!
“For whom, dear, did I marry?”
For yourself -
         or for them? -
At parents
           and children of this sort:
- What are the parents?
               And we
                   no worse, they say! -
Are engaged
          love in the form of sports
not having time
        fit into the Komsomol.
And then
         to the village
                   life without a mover -
live as before
                    year after year.
Just like that
          get married
                       and get married
how to buy
            working cattle.
If it will be
          last like that
                     year after year,
that
  I’ll tell you directly
not able to
         make out
                  and the marriage code,
where is father and daughter
                which son and mother.
I'm not for my family.
              On fire
                    and in blue smoke
burn out
      and this junk piece,
where hissed
          mother goose
and children
       guard
             - the gander father!
Not.
    But we live a commune
                        tight
in dormitories
            the skin of the body becomes dirty.
Must
    vote
         cleanliness
our relationship
               and love affairs.
Do not loosen -
             they say I'm not married.
Us
   not pop fastens gibberish.
Must
    to tie
            and the lives of men and women
in a word
       uniting us:
                        "Comrades."