Note
The translation “the extraordinary thing that happened to vladimir mayakovsky one summer in a dacha” appears in the collection Later Unearthed, published by Puncher and Wattmann in 2025.
the extraordinary thing that happened to vladimir mayakovsky one summer in a dacha
pushkino akula hill it was the rumantsyevs dacha twenty seven versts from moscow on the
yaroslavl line
sunset burned its way through a hundred and forty suns
summer rolled into july
hot it was so hot the heat throbbed
it happened in a dacha
the akula hill is large enough to dwarf
pushkino a mere mound
and at the foot of that mounds a village
pulling faces from its crooked rooves
and beyond that is the hole
into which
the sun daily gets shot
then never fast but surely
having flooded the world
that next morning there rose another scarlet sun
its horribleness scalding me
day in day out i got so pissed off
everything bled with fear
i yelled in its mug
get down from there
stop lolling in the sauna
leech
i yelled youre pampered in clouds while i
can forget about it
winter summer
im endlessly stuck here painting poster after propaganda poster
then yelled again wait listen goldenhead
rather than bludge
come here and have a cuppa
with me what have i done im a goner
toward me of his own free will strode the sun
each step beams of light
i dont want to show im terrified
but then stand back
his eyes already in the garden
now stepping through it the windows doors
and all the cracks in rolled the sun
slumped till hed drawn some breaths
but then began to say in deep bass
im holding back these flames the first time since creation
you called then bring me a cup of tea
bring it with jam
tears in these eyes and heat rising
till im out of my mind gesturing at the samovar
well alright then take a seat o great
lord light bulb
the devil forced my impudence to yell
that at him
he me confused
i sat on the bench edge
afraid this gets much worse
but from him a strange radiance streamed
and formalities all aside
i sat chatting with his luminary of this and of that
and how shat off i am painting propaganda
posters for rosta
he came back i get it okay
stop whining look at it
more simply you think
it easy for me to shine
give it at a go no well its like this you walk
because the idea takes you to take a walk
at the same time you walk
you shine
we chatted like that till dusk
or i mean till former dark
there what darkness was there
began addressing each other informally now as chums
and totally open in our friendship i
slapped him on the back and he replied
you me
the pair of us comrade
get up lets rise
and proclaim to this grey dump of dirt
I will flood it with sun
you with poems
coffin-like walls and prison-like night
both fell at that double-barrel gun
thats me and the sun
a crowd of poems and light
shine as much as you like
and only foolish drowsy sleep
will want night to stretch out suddenly
i will shine fully and day once again
will ring out to shine
at all times to shine everywhere
to the depths of the very last days
and to hell with all the rest
is my slogan for thats the suns
