Poland

Although
in Warsaw

walk fast

,

you can not hear a noise,
nor dispute,
one rings:
officer's clangor
sabers,
crosses
and spurs.
Shine
braids and laces ...
(as if not life,
but the ballet!),
and the sword
more clearly than a young moon,
and gold epaulettes.
The pen has some,
others have a tulip,
to paint
low forehead.
"I, they say, are a nobleman,
I'm supposed to be a pan,
I, they say, is not a smerd,
not a servant! "
Everywhere,
explore the streets a thousand,
tiny
and hefty, -
there is a citizen,
and behind -
detective,
and behind -
a pair of military men.
You will come to eat,
order a trifle,
and laterally
a sort of staring.
And you shiver,
eyes dropping,
and a plug
they clenched their fingers.
Other price lists seem to be text
and field
over the cloth rubbed.
Eh,
poke
another fork in steak -
here in this steak
outfitted!
Inside of me
there is no vampirism,
and I
until reprisals are not varnished,
but there is no use
from their epaulettes
nor peace,
nor to us,
nor the Poles!
Look:
on the border,
just in case,
till
from idleness tormented,
wire
lies prickly
for our pants
and meats.
And we, comrade?
What a fucking
gaze
with a cool with a sort of?
To the teeth
armed
we have
by the side
neighbor.
1927

Disclaimer: I just found these in my library. I do not have the rights to them,
I just them and decided to share them with you.