at the top of his voice // во весь голос

made a collage based on Mayakovsky's poem «Послушайте!»

There are still good letters: Er, Sha, Shch.

О, если б был я тихий, как гром,- ныл бы, дрожью объял бы земли одряхлевший скит. Я если всей его мощью выреву голос огромный,- кометы заломят горящие руки, бросаясь вниз с тоски.

Shall my end be a crown? Or Saint Helena? Now that the storm of life I’ve tackled, I’m an equal candidate for the throne of the universe and the convict’s shackles.   If I’m destined to become a tsar here,– my men will be told to imprint your darling face, my dear, onto the nation’s gold. but, if I end up there, where the tundra swallows the plains,– where the North Wind with the river bargains,– I will scratch Lily’s name all over the chains and kiss them, laboring in the darkness.   Listen you, who forgot the color of the sky above, hairy, like animals, wallowing in the slush!   in this world, this is perhaps, the final love revealing itself in the consumptive’s flush.

Your young hands didn’t rest, And the scaffold you built was terrifying. Everything you touched Seemed transformed, Whatever you wanted to destroy—collapsed, A life or death sentence in every word.