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

Rays beneath the lamp on ribs assail me
Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly
And projectors scream from every side
And the heat! The heat! Is blind!

Upon the supple neck this microphone
Is rolling with its snake head;
If I get silent - it will sting
I have to sing - till stupor, till the end.

Don't move, don't touch, don't dare!
I saw the sting - you are a snake, I know!
And I am like a charmer of a snake
Not singing, putting spell upon a cobra!

Rays beneath the lamp on ribs assail me
Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly
And projectors scream from every side
And the heat! The heat! Is blind!

It wants to eat, and with a birdling's greed
It takes the sounds out of the mouth,
In forehead it will put nine grams of lead
I won't raise the hands - the guitar binds them!

Again it will not reach the end!
What is this microphone - who will respond!
Today it is like lamp against the face,
But I'm not holy, and there's no light from the microphone.

My melodies are simpler than the scales
But barely beating from a sure tone -
I am sickly beaten on the face
By an immobile shade of microphone

Rays beneath the lamp on ribs assail me
Lamps shimmer into the face unkindly
And projectors scream from every side
And the heat! The heat! Is blind!

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Ballad about Love

When waters of a flood that swept the planet
Returned once more into the ocean bed
>From foam of a departing ocean current
Love climbed so quietly upon the land
And disappeared in air before its time -