"Vladimir Vysotsky. Selected Songs (translated by Ilya Shambat) " - читать интересную книгу автора

Was not resolved by anyone.

Not with single word do I lie -
He served the pure word, poetry.
And he wrote poems on the snow -
But snows do melt beneath the trees.

But the snow was falling then
And the freedom to write on the snow.
And the big snowflakes and hail
He touched with his lips as he ran, so.

But her, the one in silver necklace
He did not reach, not at his pace...
Did not reach goal, the runner he,
Not finished flight, it was in vain,
And sign beneath which he was born
Licked the cold Milky Way.

It's funny! Funny, yes it is! It is
When seconds do not reach the light -
The sound that does not reach the end -
Unfinished flight, unfinished flight.

It's funny? Funny, well, it's so -
Funny to you, even to me.
The horse that jumps and bird that flies -
And whose fault could it be?

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Capricious Horses

By the edge, near the precipice, at the very limit,
I am beating at my horses with my arm, a whiplash in it.
I'm not getting enough air - drinking wind, the fog imbibing,
And I scent with deadly rapture: I am dying, I am dying!

Just a little slower, horses, little slower now!
Do not listen to the taut whip, it is wrong!
But the horses that I got are capricious ones
I can't live to the end, I can't finish my song.

I will let horses drink - the couplet I will sing
For a little bit more I will stand on the brink...

I will vanish - like a feather by the wind I will blown,
In the morning they will drag me in the sleigh through the snow,
O my horses, walk some slower, show a bit of moderation
Just a little bit, prolong my way to final destination!