Selected Poems

But Be That as It May

52 ✦ vladimir mayakovsky But Be That as It May The street has caved in like the nose of a syphilitic. The river is pure lechery leaked out in drool. Having stripped off their skivvies, to the last little leaflet, the gardens indecently sprawl across June. I step out on the square, placing a burnt-out city block on my head like a red wig. The people are frightened—dangling from my mouth, a shout, partly chewed, is still wagging its legs. But I won’t be berated, but I won’t be condemned— like a prophet’s, my path will be strewn with flowers. All these people, the ones with the caved-in noses, know: I am your poet. Your Judgment Day scares me about as much as a tavern! Prostitutes will carry me forth like a sacred relic, carry me alone through the burning buildings and show me to God in their own justification. And God will break down in tears over my little book! No words—just convulsions stuck together in a wad; he’ll run around the sky with my poems tucked in his armpit, and, panting for breath, read them to his acquaintances. 1914 ...