Старый 25.01.2010, 06:58 Язык оригинала: Русский       #1
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По умолчанию Vladimir Vysotsky

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!

Читать дальше... 
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!


Добавлено через 3 часа 50 минут
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
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Последний раз редактировалось Евгений; 25.01.2010 в 10:49. Причина: Добавлено сообщение
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Старый 25.01.2010, 10:49 Язык оригинала: Русский       #2
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По умолчанию Vladimir Vysotsky "I do not like"

Vladimir Vysotsky
"I do not like"

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.

Читать дальше... 
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
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Старый 25.01.2010, 13:39 Язык оригинала: Русский       #3
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По умолчанию

Vladimir Vysotsky in Ordjonikidze (Vladikavkaz), 1978.
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Старый 25.01.2010, 18:57 Язык оригинала: Русский       #4
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Wink

But our manner of life at rodinke.Pesnya recent years, only gaining relevance ..


 As for the house became quiet,
Immersed in darkness,
The seven dashing
Rogue winds
All the windows
Turning into a ravine
A gate --
In the traffic path?
Читать дальше... 

Oh, I'm tired, tired - and horses unharnessed.
Hey, living someone, come, help me!
No one - only a shadow flashed in the hall,
Yes vulture descended and narrowed the community.

In the house as you enter
All the same, to the tavern,
A narodishko --
Every third - the enemy.
Displace cheekbone,
Unwelcome guest!
Face in the corner --
Both distorted.

I started a vague, strange conversation
Someone song groaned and tore at his guitar,
And fits small - moron and a thief --
I surreptitiously from under the cloth showed the knife.

"Who will answer me --
As for the house such
Why in the darkness,
Barack plague?
Light the lamps went out,
The air erupted ...
Ali to live with you
Unlearned?

Door wide open for you, but the soul is locked up.
Who is the master here? "- A watered wine."
And in response to me: "Looks like you were long on the road --
And people have forgotten - we always live!

Grass eating,
Century - on sorrel,
Sour souls
Opryschaveli,
Yes, more wine
Many taking delight in, --
Ruined house
Fought, hung.

"I have horses Zamora - from wolves galloped away.
Give me a land where light from the lamps.
Give me a place, which was looking for --
Where to sing, and not groan, where the floor is not roll. "

"On such homes
Not we have heard,
Long live the dark
We are accustomed.
We have always --
In so evil whisper
Under icons
In the black soot.

And of the stench, which obliquely hanging image
I drove pell-pate, to drop the whip
Where are the horses suffered so looking eyes
And where people live, and - how people live.

... How much has vanished, as subsided!
Life threw me - not dokinula.
Maybe he sang about you clumsily I
Eyes are black, white tablecloth?

1974

 So, too bad, about our so-called domestic Russian "patriots" ..

Added after 2 minutes
Why should I be thugs and thug --
Is not it better to go eh my anti-Semites:
On their side even though no laws --
Support and enthusiasm of millions.

I decided - and therefore someone to be broken,
But you have to train to know who the Semites --
And suddenly it is a very decent people,
And suddenly from behind them I had something to be!
Читать дальше... 

But a friend and teacher - wino in the grocery --
He said that the Semites - ordinary Jews.
But it's such luck, boys, --
Now I am calm - what should I be afraid!

I have long held out, because reverently
Always belonged to Albert Einstein.
People will forgive me, I could not help but ask:
Where do I include the Abraham Lincoln?

Among them - the victim of Stalin Kapler
Among them - dear me, Charlie Chaplin,
My friend Rabinovich and victims of fascism,
And even the founder of Marxism.

But the same wino told me after the businessman,
As they drink the blood of Christian babies;
And somehow in the pub I told the guys,
With a very long time they crucified god!

They must krovushki - Park your vehicle they
Tortured, reptiles, an elephant at the zoo!
They stole it, I know they have people
The entire grain harvest last year!

At Kursk, Kazan Railway
We built cottages - live there as gods ...
All I'm ready - for robbery and violence --
And I'm beating the Jews - and save Russia!


1964




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Старый 26.01.2010, 02:52 Язык оригинала: Русский       #5
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По умолчанию

My son has suffered, and suffered, those who loved him

Mother of Vladimir Vysotsky - about life and death of the poet

Valery Carriers

Today is the birthday of Vladimir Vysotsky. He would have turned 72 years old. We are talking about Vysotsky in the subjunctive mood in July 1980-th, and our persistent "could", "would play", "would" clearly show that Vysotsky for us - alive. Any new evidence about it is viewed with keen interest. Today, Izvestia published fragments of interviews journalist Valery Perevozchikova Nina Vysotsky.

In an apartment on the Little Georgian Street Carriers came on the recommendation of Vadim Tumanov. Meetings took place in late 1987 to early 1990. This was the time of the first major publications of the Vysotsky, the first articles about him. Began to appear excerpts from the book by Marina Vlady, Vladimir, or Interrupted Flight. All this was discussed as a journalist and the heroine of a famous tea recipe Vysotsky: spoon on different varieties ...
Читать дальше... 

Friends

Friends for Volodya at different times have changed. Toll Utevskii - is still on the Big Karetny. I remember him, such a beautiful guy. Bobrov - son of famous pop artists ... And it was a time when the young guys were dudes. So, Bobrov - he was a dude. Our son, too - wearing tight pants, jacket, boucle. And there was some article about dude, where Bobrova name was mentioned. We Semyon terribly worried, as if this matter were not affected by Volodya.

When Volodya was a student, to our middle-class began to arrive Valentin Burov, Valentin Nikulin, Jora Epifantsev ... Jora helped us move into a new house. He said: "Well, here we have moved!" - And came to us with his goodness. Semyon bought a huge bed. This bed was in the bedroom, and Volodya Epifantsevym slept on it, because the floor space was left.

There was a trio: Roman Vildan, Jora Epifantsev and Vladimir Vysotsky ... Drank, of course ... They were busy in the studio for a secular manner - Princess Volkonskaia taught. So they are in a cup instead of tea poured some wine. And the teacher told me: "I do not understand, by the end of lessons they're all so funny ..."

Childhood

There was such a case: Volodya, a schoolboy, said to me: "Mummy, I want to grow mold on bread." And on my desk on a plate lay a carrot, I automatically shut its banks and forgotten. And it formed mold - very beautiful. I Volodya said: "Why is necessarily on the bread?" Look at me on carrots mold is.

He had laughed and said: "Well, well. I'll take it tomorrow." And this brought carrots to school. Class lying! Because the teacher of botany Helen Sergeyevna called carrot, and she knew it. She said: "Vysotsky, what you horrible creature!" Volodya quipped: "I was a substance, but was a creature." And again all laughed. Well, we all childhood шкодили ...

We had a neighbor in the apartment Gisya Moiseevna. Very intriguing woman. For example, she said:

- You called Sergei.

- What is the Sergei? Perhaps, Grisha?

- It is very likely that Grisha.

Names she did not remember, and Volodya then repeated: "It may very well be."

Volodya was born in January - and the house we have the old, and poorly heated, and at ISG Moiseyevna in the room was warmer than ours. So I breast Volodya they have several times spent the night. General Volodia was so cute, curly, very little in the corridor. All his love, the girls pulled on his hands, and roll those who candy ... Then, after all together in the kitchen preparing meals and regaled each other, but lived a very not rich.

My family

My maiden name Seregina. I had a sister, Raya, she died young. In 1931, during the winter. She was only 21 years old. And then my mother died. Sergei's brother - was a very handsome man: the tremendous growth, dark, dark eyes. All women pay attention to it. He studied at Sevastopol in the flying school. He began work in Orenburg, an instructor pilot. From there he was summoned to Moscow, the headquarters of the Air Force. At the same time as these "star" long-distance flights, he participated and was awarded for it. Then Sergei left Moscow, commander of the squadron. There were three ties, that is, he was a colonel. And then he was arrested. There were exercises, and one bomb did not explode. By chance they found her children, there was an explosion, and three children were killed. And in his personnel file stated that the blame for the squadron commander. But how could he know that the bomb did not explode, that the children will go on the field and find it ...

Sergei was two years under investigation and a year in prison somewhere in the north, on some lakes. Sentenced him "troika" that is, without a trial. In the north, in the camp, he is survived ... Needles were eaten, was ill in hospital. Sergei tried to never forget about it. He suffered terribly from what it was all so unfair. Not for anything broken man. And now the General Staff sent me a paper stating that Sergei is fully rehabilitated.

My brother told me about deportation. There were rounded up thousands of people, and they were like this - very tightly. That is, people could not sit down or even fall. The poor and hungry, they sometimes die standing. And when someone called, was a terrible crush, and in the crush also killed people! And in this crowd, they are exhausted, came up with a poluprised that at least a little rest ...

And now imagine, then head of the Lukyanovskaya prison was the director of the factory where I worked in the evacuation. And there he mocked the workers.

Serge died in 1952. Volodya, I remember, very worried. Then, many years later, Volodya suddenly said:

- Mom, tell me about Uncle Sergei.

- Well, I tell you? Why?

- Ah, you're afraid, because my wife is a foreigner.

- I'm not afraid, she is afraid of everything ...

disease

I am so fond of Marina Vlady ... But now, after its publication, take off all her portraits and carried him out of the house. It is vitally hurt us, hurt all the children and grandchildren.

She writes that the seven bottles of vodka a day for Volodya was the norm. But this can not be - because even alcoholics say. After all, the book is published not in one day. It will be in libraries, it will be read. One woman wrote to the publishers, to any place softened, and some removed altogether. In Russian tradition, there is no dirty linen paraded display ...

Some nonsense is obtained. The man worked in the theater, filmed, acted in hundreds of cities in the Soviet Union, talked with people who traveled abroad. When he drank, if he so much work? There are thousands of his photographs - and no one no drunken Vysotsky!

Marina wrote that he was drunk creep home. When we lived together with Volodya, such cases occurred. However, if it makes going to the company, he liked to stay there for his comrades. Well, they sat at night, talked, the more we lived far away.

If he drank, it was a disease. When this happened, Volodya was like a wounded bird. For him it was impossible to act in such a state, but we tried to protect, divert. He did not eat - we were cooking broth, juice drink ... His brain was constantly working, he suffered, and suffered by those who loved him. I suffered!

Who cares that Volodya, writes Marina, ice lay under a blanket, that he had cramps ... Who needs it? Comics - and nothing more. Yesterday I asked Nikita:

- Nikita, have you ever seen my father drunk or in adult form?

- No, I have nothing not even know ...

I can certainly say that Vlad never let anyone hurt and humiliated, even if he was in such condition.

July 1980

People forget that the parents are alive and they hurt. I was crying and crying when I read all these articles with details about Volodin death. Although I cherish, from me, these articles are hiding ... You know that the Kremlin itself, one man holding a poster "I demand clarification of Vysotsky's death !"?..

What were his last days? I returned to Moscow on July 10. Volodya told me that he died Kolokol'nikov, actor Taganka Theater, funeral two days later. But at the funeral Volodya was not. July 14, I too was Volodya. 16 th he had a concert somewhere in town. I say: "Take me with you. I want to go." Volodya: "Wait, Mom. Soon to be a concert in Moscow, that's when you go with me ..."

After the opening ceremony - is July 19. I went to Volodya came children. "Mom, take something in the fridge to feed the kids. And I go up to Nisanovu (Valery Nisan, photographer, Vysotsky's neighbor at home on the Little Georgia. -" The News ")." Returned Volodya bad ...

23rd I spent the whole day was Volodya. Has left late, went to bed. Two nights without sleep - turn off the phone. Wake up call from the door. Neighbors: "You call, Nina Maximovna. Urgent matter." Valera Yanklovich administrator Volodya: "Nina Maksimovna to send a Volodya in hospital? Your opinion?" I say: "Of course, submit! In any case, submit to the hospital!" But decided to postpone.

24 th again all day with Volodya. I told Abdulovu Seva: Seva, stay. " But no - his performances, rehearsal ... If I had been there at night, perhaps, Volodya would not have died. They supposedly Volodya told me that day: "I'll die today." This is not true. This is much earlier than he told me: "I'm going to die, Mommy," - in March. And if Volodya then said: "I die today ..." - I did not stay?

After the death of

Volodya we buried all together. At nine days of Marina was not, she arrived at the forty days. She, of course, experienced, very thin. In a terrible state, but had already dealt with hereditary cases. Marina generally wise woman, practical, businesslike. And we are Soviet people, do not know anything about it. I do not want to do. Machines do not we buy, we have built a dacha not ...

We lost a son, and in any case did not intervene. Yes we have no one and did not ask. They themselves are discussed and solved. I've been engaged in farming and heard Artur Makarov (writer, scriptwriter, the adopted son of Sergei Gerasimov and Tamara Makarova. - "The News"), said: "Forty thousand for giving me the ladies, but not immediately. Immediately I can not." And Marina says: "Good. You're the money going to slowly convert Nina Maksimovna ..." This is a noble gesture: the money - the mother.

The manuscripts were taken from the apartment, photographs, too. Searching for some documents. Then, after the death of Volodya, I do not understand. And they believed that everything in the apartment belongs to the Marina. Volodya was a huge musical setting, it disappeared. Another tape was in the bedroom. Volodya included it before bedtime, usually listen to classic stuff - tape, too, someone gave.

We just watched and wondered. But I said nothing. Then Marina someone whispered something, and she left the house, lived in the country. I am worried, cried, told her by telephone:

- Why did you leave? Go home!

But she had not returned ...

http://www.izvestia.ru/culture/article3137659/
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Старый 26.01.2010, 21:19 Язык оригинала: Русский       #6
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По умолчанию

Canadian jazz guitarist Yves Desrosiers recorded an album of his interpretations of songs by Vladimir Vysotsky. For example:



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Старый 26.01.2010, 21:35 Язык оригинала: Русский       #7
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Smile

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zl_I2f0W9hE

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"I was a battalion intelligence officer .." performed by Vladimir Semenycha.Ulet ..




Последний раз редактировалось Аркадий; 26.01.2010 в 23:39. Причина: Добавлено сообщение
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Этот пользователь сказал Спасибо Аркадий за это полезное сообщение:
lusyvoronova (26.01.2010)
Старый 26.01.2010, 23:39 Язык оригинала: Русский       #8
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"I was a battalion intelligence officer .." performed by Vladimir Semenycha.Ulet ..
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