The fascinating Soviet poet-hunk Vladimir Mayakovsky (July 19, 1893 - 1930) who never could reconcile his aesthetics (Futurist-Dadaist) with his politics (Leninist)…
Impossible
I can’t lift the grand piano
all on my own,
(the steel safe
is too heavy too)
But if not the safe
or the piano,
alone,
how could I carry my heart back from you?
Bankers know:
“In money, we bathe.
If the pockets are full,—
place it all in the safe.”
I’ve hid
all my love
into you
like riches in steel,
and walked on, like Croesus,
but wealthier still.
and,
if desire really demands it,
I’ll take out a smile,
or whatever
the cost,
and party all night
with all of my friends there
spending some fifteen lyrics, at most.
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