***

...The war
is the stink
of rotting manure.
The war
is a plant
producing the poor.
A grave
with no bottom
of devilish size,
it's mud,
it is hunger,
it's fever and lice.
The rich
get money
in bundles and batches,
while we
get the tinkle
of wooden crunches.
The war
is the order,
decree, manifesto:
Emrace
your fiancees and wives
with prosthetics!
So, dear comrades
most everywhere,
say all together:
No to warfare!!!

Vladimir Mayakovsky

translated by A.A.