The Tube Train
Cyril E. Power 1934
The Smoker, The Match, The Cigarette
Anton Giulio Bragaglia 1911
Luigi Russolo 1910
By Paolo Buzzi 1913
They flutter through the streets as evening falls,
darting from square to square
on their mysterious errands,
quick and quiet, each one a point of light
the women of Copenhagen
on their bicycles
What a fantastic show
deep shadow, sudden gleam
in the dense foliage of a park,
fireflies they seem.
giving off an aura as of wood-nymphs.
They sparkle past,
heels flashing, ballet-dancers.
Try to catch one,
she will flit away, and leave a gleaming trail
just like a firefly.
followed by others, coming and going.
Night, and this city of stone becomes an arena
a city of trees turned into a great, burning bush
made up of frenzied fireflies.
Earth and sky seem covered over with them
in a see-saw game of constellations.
Babies, little girls and sweethearts,
virgins, viragoes, spouses, mothers and nannies,
princesses and peasant-lasses, clerks and suffragettes,
who knows where their wheels are taking them, and their dreams?
Ah, universe, I think, they may be comets
that touched the street for one
bright instant with a flick of the tail.
Pineapples in champagne! Pineapples in champagne! Deliriously tasty, sparkling and bright! Im in something from Norway! Im in something from Spain! Im inspired in bursts and I sit down to write. Planes are screeching above me! Automobiles are running! Express trains whistling by and the yachts taking flight! Someones kissed over here! Someone elsewhere is beaten! Pineapples in champagne - the pulse of the night! Among nervous girls and in company of women Tragedy I am turning to dream and to farce. Pineapples in champagne! Pineapples in champagne! Moscow to Nagasaki! New York to Mars!
Today I will go once again
Into life, into haggling, into market,
And lead the army of my songs
To duel against the market tide.