By Vladimir Mayakovskiy

I quickly smeared the daily map by splashing paint from my vast cup;

          I pointed out within a plate of jelly the sideward cheekbones of the sea;

Then read out calls of newborn lips

                                                          From a tin fish’s scaly surface.

And you,

      could you have

             played a nocturne

                  on a sewer pipe flute?

- 1913