Vladimir Vysotsky

[Евгений]

Vladimir Vysotsky (25 January 1938, Moscow, USSR - July 25, 1980, Moscow, USSR) - a famous Russian Soviet poet, singer and actor, author of several prose works, Honored Artist of the RSFSR (1986, posthumously) and the USSR State Prize Laureate (1987 posthumously).
Along the cliff, upon the precipice, on the very edge of
I whip lashed his horses - Faster, --
Something my little air - drinking wind, the fog swallowed
I feel with the fatal ecstasy: Propadaju! Propadaju!

          A little more slowly, the horses, a little more slowly!
          You do not listen to the whip tight!
          But something caught my fastidious horses --
          I did not have time to live, I dopet not enough.

     I have satiated the horses,
     I couplet dopoyu --
     Though little more
                              posts on the edge!

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Begone, I, I feather the hurricane swept away with the palm
And in a sleigh I will lead a gallop through the snow in the morning.
You step on a leisurely visit, my horses!
Though a bit, but prolong the path to the last refuge!

          A little more slowly, the horses, a little more slowly!
          Not ukazchiki you whip and the lash!
          But something caught my fastidious horses --
          I did not have time to live, I dopet not enough.

     I have satiated the horses,
     I couplet dopoyu --
     Though little more
        posts on the edge!

We had - on a visit to God there are no delays;
Well there angels sing these angry voices?
Or is it a bell all roared with sobs?
Or I yell horses, so as not to bore so fast sled?

          A little more slowly, the horses, a little more slowly!
          I implore you not to fly off at a gallop!
          But something caught my horses choosy ...
          Kohl did not have time to live, so at least dopet!

     I have satiated the horses,
     I couplet dopoyu --
     Though little more
          posts on the edge!

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Vladimir Vysotsky

"I do not like"

        (From the play "his island")

I do not like a fatal outcome.
From life never get tired.
I do not love any time of year,
When gay songs do not sing.

I do not like the open cynicism
In rapture I do not believe, and yet,
When someone else reads my letter
Looking over my shoulder.

I do not like it when half
Or when the interrupted conversation.
I do not like being shot in the back,
I am also against the shots at close range.

I hate gossip in the form of versions
Worm of doubt, honors the needle,
Or, when all the time against the grain,
Or, when the iron on the glass.

I do not like certain well-fed,
I'd rather let them refuse the brakes!
It is sad to me that the word "honor" is forgotten,
And in honor of libel for the eyes.

When I see the broken wings
No pity for me and an ulterior motive --
I do not like violence and powerlessness,
It is a pity the crucified Christ.

I do not like myself when I coward,
It is sad to me when innocents are beaten,
I do not like when I walk into the soul,
Especially when it spit.

I do not like arenas and the arena
They zillion me on ruble
Let the big changes ahead,
I can not love it.

1969