Mayakovsky’s kindness to horses
It sounded like the hooves were singing:
it must have been the street that skidded!
Perhaps the street tripped
on the horse: anyway, the poor horse
scooted along the street
like a coffin scooting into the fire.
Nobody had any reason to be out anyway,
except to show off their flares
at the horse,
oh come and stare!
But I was not going to join in this choir,
and saw the horse’s eyes...
The street had fallen over and nobody had noticed
but the horse: I saw large drops
were rolling down its face
in its hair.
Oh horse, don’t, listen, horse:
you’re really no worse than they are!
We are all of us horses, to some extent! Horse?
Perhaps it didn’t think it needed a nurse
perhaps my thought seemed trite to the horse,
at anyrate, up it got with a jerk, and a flick
of its tail, and cheerfully returned
and stood in its stall,
as if really it felt like a colt,
and that life was worth living,