Mayakovsky’s kindness to horses
It sounded like the hooves were singing:
sto
ste
sto
ste;
it must have been the street that skidded!
Perhaps the street tripped
on the horse: anyway, the poor horse
hearse
horse
hearse
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
and laugh
ha
he
ha
he
at the horse,
oh come and stare!
But I was not going to join in this choir,
no, I
walked up
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
here
there
here
there
burying themselves
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
horse
nurse
horse
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
sto
ste
sto
ste
and stood in its stall,
as if really it felt like a colt,
and that life was worth living,
and work
worth
while.
