Vladimir Vysotsky
This page is dedicated to Vladimir Vysotsky (1938-1980), an immensely and uniquely talented Russian bard, a poet so diverse, there is probably no subject he did not touch upon. He was also an actor, in film as well as in theatre, where he created his unforgettable Hamlet. Adored by the entire nation for his honest, intense, rebelling, burlesque songs and poems, he was denied official recognition in his lifetime, and did not live to see his works appear in print.
Below is my translation of just a few of his many songs. I attempted to keep as much of the original meaning and structure as possible, while preserving the meter and rhyming pattern. I also included audio fragments of the translated songs.
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Someone Spotted A Fruit...
Someone spotted a fruit, still green,
Maybe something went wrong with his fate,
He started humbly with a "do",
It's so funny, is it not?
Only started an argument, yet
Only started a duel, again
To know all he'd always strive,
It's so funny, is it not?
Not a letter of mine is a lie:
It was snowing back then, and at least
To her, in a silver-gilt landau
It's so funny, is it not?
Seemed funny, didn't it? Of course, 1973
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Where Are You, Wolves?
To Mikhail Shemyakin
Like a razor, the daybreak slashed over the eyes,
You lay down on your bellies and covered your fangs,
Life is rarely known to smile on my kin,
Let us smile the grin of a wolf at the foe,
So we crawled - tails doggishly tucked, minds dazed,
We got soaked in blood in the rainstorm of lead.
Raging crowd of dogs, don't you mess with my pack -
Let us smile the grin of a wolf at the foe,
To the woods - I may rescue a few of you still.
The survivors are over the creek, lying low.
...I live on, but around me I see every day
I am smiling the grin of a wolf at my foe: 1978
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Song About Earth
Who could say: All was burned to a crisp,
Earth of motherhood try to bereave -
Gash-like trenches are running across.
It'll wait, it'll bear anything, -
No! It muffles its groans in a call,
Who believes Earth was burned, who believes? 1969
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If they scour, wicked fellows,
Seeking your unruly pate,
So your thin neck on the gallows
Even thinner could be made, -
Safest refuge, no doubt,
Is the wood: you won't be lost,
If some rat has sold you out
With your guts, at no cost.
All misfits and lonely paupers,
Scornful of a servant's lot,
All unlucky homeless loafers,
So that debt is all they got,-
Every flotsam, every jetsam
Flee to freedom in this wood,
'Cause its master is a handsome
Good old fellow - Robin Hood!
Here they listen to a loner,
Aren't afraid of sharp remarks;
Here they accept with honour
Dare-devils with a spark.
Even noble knights' approach
Is to hide, till time is right, -
No fear or reproach -
But the purse is always light!
All reindeer tracks they know,
Greenwood folks, from first to last,-
Now free archers on the go,
Slavish servants in the past.
Here, the ragged and the poorest
Will be saved and understood,
While he walks around the forest,
This good fellow - Robin Hood!
Merry men, they live and cope
In the face of all taboos,
Never losing heart and hope,
Those archers in the woods.
They would sleep on moss and feather,
Use for blankets starry skies,-
No matter what the weather -
Still alive, and that is nice!
Yet, each sighs of being parted
From his home and piece of land,
Just before the battle started,
Strokes a bow, his loyal friend.
Better archers can't be found...
And if morrow's any good -
Knows the finest man around:
One good fellow - Robin Hood!
1975
The Tightrope Walker
He could neither for rank nor for height hope...
Not for fame and not for payment
In his odd style, without a swerve
All through life he's been walking a tightrope,
Not the pavement, not the pavement -
A tightrope strained like a nerve.
Look! No safety net!
He is moving across...
Half a tilt to the left -
He will fall, he is lost!
Half a tilt to the right -
He is doomed anyway...
But he clearly needs, needs to make it today
Through these four quarters of the way.
Lights were throwing off-step and would pierce
Worse than laurels, sharp and nimble.
The trumpet was going insane...
Shouts "Bravo!" kept blasting his ears,
And the cymbal, and the cymbal
Was hammering into his brain!
Look! No safety net!
He is moving across...
Half a tilt to the left -
He will fall, he is lost!
Half a tilt to the right -
He is doomed anyway...
But he now has less, less to walk, less to sway -
Already three quarters of the way.
"Ah! How awful, how lovely, how daring!
Death-defying! Just three minutes!"
Mouths open in wait and in fright,
From the pit were gloomily staring
Tiny midgets... Tiny midgets
They appeared to him from his height.
Look! No safety net!
He is moving across...
Half a tilt to the left -
He will fall, he is lost!
Half a tilt to the right -
He is doomed anyway...
But calm down! He's now to balance his weight
For just two quarters of the way!
He would mock fleeting fame, but aspired
To be first, with all his might strove -
Try breaking his kind into crumbs!
It was our nerves, not the wire,
Not the tightrope, not the tightrope,
That he walked to the roll of the drums!
Look! No safety net!
He is moving across...
Half a tilt to the left -
He will fall, he is lost!
Half a tilt to the right -
He is doomed anyway...
But be still! There remains at the end of the day
No more than a quarter of the way!
Screamed the tamer, and animals scurried,
To the stretcher their paws thrust...
But the verdict is simple and blunt:
Whether he was assured or worried,
Into sawdust, into sawdust
He spilled his vexation and blood!
Someone else takes his route
Now, without a net.
Slender cord underfoot...
He will fall, he'll regret!
Leaning right, leaning left -
He is doomed anyway...
But he too, for some reason, must make it today
Through all four quarters of the way!
1972
© Translation Copyright 1999-2002 Eugenia Weinstein
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