I suddenly smeared the weekday map
splashing paint from a glass;
On a plate of aspic 
I revealed 
the ocean's slanted cheek. 
On the scales of a tin fish
I read the summons of new lips. 
And you 
could you perform
a nocturne on a drainpipe flute?
And Could You?
written byVladimir Mayakovsky
© Vladimir Mayakovsky





