Contents of the poem "Clouds in Pants

The full text of the poem "Clouds in Pants" is as follows:

Why do you call me a poet

I'm not a poet

I'm nothing but a weeping child

You see

I have only tears scattered to silence

Why do you call me a poet

My sorrows are those of all men's misfortune

I have had trifling joys

so trifling

that if I told them to you

I would have been a little more than a little more than a trifle.

I've had insignificant joys

So insignificant

If I told you about them

I'd blush with shame

Today I thought of death

I want to die

Just because I'm weary

Just because the portraits of angels on the cathedral glass windows

Make me Tremble out of love and sorrow

Just because

And now I am meek as a mirror

Like an unfortunate and sad mirror

You see

I am not a poet

I am only a sad child who wants to go to his death

You do not wonder at my sadness

You also Don't ask me

I'll only say things to you that are so futile

So futile

that I'll really just cry like

I'm about to die

My tears

are as sad as your rosary beads when you pray

But I'm not a poet

I'm just a meek

a contemplative child

I love the ordinary life of everything

I see passions fading away

for the sake of those who have left us

but you laugh at me

you don't understand me

I think

I'm a sick man

I I'm a sick man indeed

I die a little bit every day

I can see

just like those things

I'm not a poet

I know

that in order to be called a poet

one should live a completely different life

The sky, in the smoke

is forgotten. The blue skies of oblivion

as if they were ragged fugitive clouds

I've used them all to render this last love

which is as bright and colorful

as the blush on the face of a consumptive

your thoughts

disappeared in the rubbed softness of your minds

as the fat servants in the greasy couch.

I will tease it

Make it hit the shards of my bloody heart

Rash and pungent I

Will tease it to my heart's content

Not a single gray hair in my soul

Nor is there an old man's warmth and haggardness in it

I shake the world with the power of my throat

With the power of my throat

I come forward. p>

Come forward - I'm strangely handsome

I'm only twenty-two years old

Rude men beat love on a timpani

Warm men

Play love on a fiddle

Neither of you can turn yourselves over as I have done

Make me Turn my whole body into two lips

Come and meet me--

From the parlor of the veil-clad

Demure and polite noblewoman in the procession of angels

Like a female chef flipping through the pages of a cookbook

You turn your lips serenely

If you are willing to turn yourself over as I do.

If you want me to--

I could become a man mad with carnal desire

changing my moods

like the sky that is sometimes clear and sometimes cloudy

If you want me to--

I could become unimpeachably warm

Not a man

But a cloud in pants

I don't believe

that there'll be a florid-fangled Ness

I'm coming back to sing the praises of

Men who are put to bad sleep like hospitals

Women who are used and abused like mottos

If you want

Expanded:

The long poem titled "Clouds in Trousers," written at the end of 1915, is the work of the poet Mayakovsky's masterpiece, and is named after the first movement, "Down with your love". The poem is dedicated to his muse, Lily, the woman for whom he put a bullet through his heart and left behind.

This means that the poem is at the same time bleak and sad. The poet never married and never aged, although he was 37 and middle-aged when he ended his life, he was always young, always living in his "twenty-two year old passion", a poem of burning passion, but also a poem of sadness.

Before the October Revolution, the masterpiece of the long poem "Clouds in Pants" is said to be written to the first love, this poem has four parts, here is only the prelude.

This long poem was written in 1914-1915.

Originally titled The Thirteenth Apostle, Mayakovsky says in the preface, "The Cloud in Trousers I consider to be the basic idea of contemporary art: 'Down with your love,' 'Down with your art ', 'Down with your institutions', 'Down with your religion' - these are the four slogans of the four movements. "

This long poem is dedicated to Lil, Yo, and Burik, who was Mayakovsky's closest girlfriend.

References:

Baidu Encyclopedia - Clouds in Pants