Vladimir Vysotsky
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Vladimir Vysotsky, in full Vladimir Semyonovich Vysotsky, (born January 25, 1938, Moscow, Russia, U.S.S.R.—died July 24, 1980, Moscow), Russian actor, poet, songwriter, and performer who was considered “the voice of the heart of a nation.” His wide-ranging and forthright poems were considered subversive by the Soviet authorities and were barred from publication, but they were the cultural lifeblood for many Russians. Vysotsky was an immensely popular figure who continued to be revered, read, and listened to long after his death.
Vysotsky’s parents were divorced soon after his birth, and he lived mostly with his mother (a technical translator), first in Buzuluk and then (from 1945) in Moscow. He attended the Institute of Civil Engineering for a year (1955–56) but quit to join the Nemirovich-Danchenko Studio School of the Moscow Art Theatre. He graduated in 1960 and became a professional actor, first at the Moscow Pushkin Dramatic Theatre and then at the Theatre of Miniatures (i.e., “Playlets”). From 1964 he was a member of the Moscow Theatre of Drama and Comedy on the Taganka, where he starred notably as Hamlet. He also was featured in several films and on television.
His great popularity as an actor was perhaps even exceeded by his popularity as a poet and songwriter; he wrote several hundred songs and poems, as well as incidental music for plays and films. Soviet officialdom permitted few of his songs to be sung on television or in films or to be recorded. His reputation spread by means of his appearances in clubs, factories, and universities and through the mass distribution of homemade (and illegal) tape recordings (magnitizdat) and typescripts and mechanical copies (samizdat). His lyrical themes ranged from Soviet prison life and internal exile (“Only the final judgment could be worse”) and Soviet official hypocrisy (“I grieve that honour has been put to rout, that backbiting has been deified”) to the exigencies of Russian daily life (crowded living quarters, long food lines, unfair privileges of the elite). More than simply reflecting a difficult reality, he gave many of his fellow citizens the strength to go on.
He died at age 42 of a heart attack brought on, it was said, by his hard-drinking lifestyle. In the late 1980s the Soviet government began allowing the publication of his poetry and song lyrics.
Написание русских имен латинскими буквами часто вызывает сложности по двум причинам: нет единых правил в транслитерации, кроме загранпаспортов, а также из=за отсутствия эквивалентов многих русских букв в английском алфавите. Имена собственные транслитируются в документах и деловой переписке, но не переводятся, а также их не заменяют на англоязычные варианты.
Елена – Elena, но не Helen.
Михаил – Mikhail, но не Michael.
Таблица транслитерации
Мужские имена
Русское имя
Русское имя на английском
Уменьшительное имя
Уменьшительное имя на английском
Женские имена
Русское имя
Русское имя на английском
Уменьшительное имя
Уменьшительное имя на английском
Viktoria, Viktoriya, Victoria
Yevgenia, Yevgeniya, Evgenia
Natalya, Natalia, Nataliya
Правила транслитерации имен
При переходе с русского варианта написания имен на английский бывают случаи, когда может быть непонятно, каким образом следует писать имя. Сложности могут возникать при транслитерации следующих букв:
— Буква Ь при транслитерации имен опускается, а использовать апостроф не рекомендуется:
Илья — Ilya
Игорь — Igor
Ольга — Olga
— Буквы Ы и Й передаются буквой Y:
Быстров — Bystrov
Николай— Nikolay
Майоров — Mayorov
— Если фамилия заканчивается на «-ый», в транслитерации остается «-y»:
Белый — Bely
Корецкий – Koretsky
— так как буква H в английском иногда не читается, для передачи русского звука «х» используется сочетание KH:
Ахматова — Akhmatova
Харитонов — Kharitonov
Захар – Zakhar
— Русское сочетание КС лучше передавать буквами KS, а не X:
Ксения — Ksenia
Александр — Aleksandr
— Если Е стоит в начале имени, возможны два варианта:
— Буква Ё обычно записывается так же, как Е, но если требуется подчеркнуть произношение имени, то следует использовать буквосочетание YO:
Фёдор – Fyodor
Мария — Maria
Валерия — Valeria
Правописание имен для загранпаспорта
— буква Ц теперь передается буквосочетанием TS, а не TC, как это было ранее;
— гласные Я и Ю должны писаться по новым правилам с использованием буквы I вместо Y;
— буква Й теперь пишется латинской буквой I;
— появилось свое написание у твердого знака – IE.
Буквы в именах собственных, при написании которых могут возникнуть сложности:
Стихи Владимира Высоцкого на английском языке. Poems of Vladimir Vysotsky
На этой странице вы найдёте стихи Владимира Высоцкого на английском языке.
Владимир Семёнович Высоцкий/ Vladimir Vysotsky, (25 января 1938 — 25 июля 1980) — советский поэт, бард и актёр.
A meeting with the Muse
I’m gonna blow as if three hundred tons of TNT—
I’m charged with dullness of all evil-hearted
But just today, the Muse came forth to me
Stayed for a while, then departed.
I know, she had good motives; I understand—
I have no right to moan here in dismay,
Just think, a Muse. at night. and with a man!
God only known, what some might say!
And yet, I feel rejected and aroused
Because this Muse—and many will agree!—
Had daily hung out at Block’s house,
And stayed with Pushkin and never tried to flee
I rushed towards the desk, still so impatient
I beg You, God, please keep me in your sight!
She left, and thus I lacked my inspiration
And—money that she needed for the ride
In rage, I rush around the house in a pother
But I forgive her, even though it’s tough
She left me here alone, but for another
I guess, I didn’t treat her well enough
Gigantic cake with candles was prepared
Now it dries up from woe; I, too, feel used
And with my neighbor—lowlifes, I have shared
The cognac that was meant just for the Muse
Like people, years have slowly passed on by
All’s in the past, I yawning from ennui
She left without a word, without a reason why,
Two lines are left from her, yes only two
Here are the lines—without a doubt, I’m a poet;
I hear applause and I am full of pride;
«I still remember that amazing moment,
When you appeared before my sight!»
A song about a friend
Fastidious horses
Along the gap, right by the cliff, where the edge is very narrow
With the whip I lash my horses, striking harder, force applying.
There’s no air for me to breathe,— I drink the wind, the mist I
swallow
I can feel with tragic passion that I am dying, that I am dying!
Slow it down, horses, calm your eagerness!
Do not listen to the old tight thong!
But the horses that I’ve got are fastidious—
Had no time to fully live or sing the song.
I’ll allow them to drink, and this verse I will sing
Just a little bit longer I will stay on the brink.
Like a flake, a brutal twister will then sweep me off the palm
In the morning, by the sledge, on the snow I’ll heave and welter
Slow your gallop, oh my horses,— make it peaceful and calm
And extend, somewhat, my journey to the last and final shelter
Slow it down, horses, calm your eagerness!
Do not listen to the old tight thong!
But the horses that I’ve got are fastidious—
Had no time to fully live or sing the song.
I’ll allow them to drink, and this verse I will sing
Just a little bit longer I will stay on the brink.
I’ll allow them to drink, and this verse I will sing
And just for a moment, I will stay on the brink.
He who’s been with her before
That night, I didn’t drink, I didn’t sing—
I stared at her and didn’t blink,
As though a child, as though a child
But he, who’s been with her before
He told me, I should simply go,
He told me, I should simply go,
I’d face denial!
And he, who’s been with her before
He talked so coarsely and he swore
But I remembered—I wasn’t drunk then
And as I tried to walk away
She told me, «What’s the hurry, stay!»
She told me, «What’s the hurry, stay,
It isn’t late yet!»
But he, who’s been with her before
Remembered and did not let go
And once in fall, and once in fall
I’m with my friend, they blocked our lane
They stood together in a chain,
They stood together in a chain—
Eight men in all
With me—my knife and I decide
I won’t go down without a fight
Watch out you fools! Watch out you fools!
Why should I wait to be submersed?
And so, I chose to strike them first
And so, I chose to strike them first
Those were the rules
But he, who’s been with her before
He planned and plotted a fierce row,
Severe and grave, severe and grave
Right from behind, someone attacked
And Johnny warned me, «Watch your back!»
And Johnny warned me, «Watch your back!»
It was too late
For all eight sins—one resolution
A prison clinic—my conclusion
I lied there flat, I lied there flat
The surgeon cut across and down
He told me, «Man, just hang around!»
He told me, «Man, just hang around!»
I did just that!
The time flew by during my term
She did not wait for my return
But I’ve forgiven, her—I’ve forgiven
Yes her, I surely do condone
But him, who’s been with her before
But him, who’s been with her before
I won’t be leaving
With him, who’s been with her before
With him, who’s been with her before
I will get even
Leaving the mountains
To the scramble of cities and the crowded streets
We return, for these places have bound us.
We descend from the conquered mountain peaks,
Leaving our hearts in the mountains.
So, I beg you, just stop all the meaningless fights!
Many times I have proven this speech,
And to me, the one thing that is better than heights,
Is the height that I haven’t yet reached!
Who would want to be left by all alone in a mix?
To descend when the heart starts to revel?—
Yet, we left from the conquered mountain peaks—
Gods, themselves, desended from heaven.
So, I beg you, just stop all the meaningless fights!
Many times I have proven this speech,
And to me, the one thing that is better than heights,
Is the height that I haven’t yet reached!
Beautiful verses in their honor were penned
And the mountains call us to stay.
For a year or forever— but we have to descend,
We must always return, either way.
So, I beg you, just stop all the meaningless fights!
Many times I have proven this speech,
And to me, the one thing that is better than heights,
Is the height that nobody has reached!
Morning workout
Inhale deeply, arms—out more,
Do not hurry—three and four!
Grace and pliability are emphasized!
All around conditioning,
And hangover quickening,
If you’re still alive and fidgeting-
Exercise!
If you’re working out at home,
Do lie down!—three and four!
Correctly go through every single motion!
Lose the tension that you feel,
Get accustomed to the drill!
Inhale deeply right until.
Exhaustion!
Quickly growing ’round the world—
Flu and illness—three and four!
The disease is gradually flourishing!
If you’re weak—straight to the grave!
If you want your wellness saved,
With a towel rub yourself,
It’s nourishing!
If already you feel spent,
Sit and stand, sit and stand—
Do not fear the Arctic and Antarctic!
Our main scholar Dr. Joffe
Proved to us that booze and coffee
Will be replaced by athletic prophy—
—lactic
All the talking should be stopped
Keep on squatting ’till you drop
Do not be such gloomy creatures!
If you cannot hold your ardor
Rub yourself with something harder
In the water, you can start the
Drilled procedures
We’re not scared of doltish talk—
In response we run and walk,—
Amateurs—triumphant from the start!
Beautiful!—right from beginning
No one’s losing, no one’s winning
Stationary running is bringing
Peace to hearts!
My Hamlet
I knew that everything would be just as I ruled.
And I was never at a loss and never down.
My mates of sword and those I knew from school
Were loyal, like their fathers to the crown.
I never gave my speech a bit of thought.
Into the wind, I threw my words with pleasance—
Like to a leader, trust to me was brought
By noble and high-ranking adolescents.
We made the guards feel restless in the night,
From us, like from a pox, the time grew worse.
I slept on leather; ate right off the knife—
With stirrups disciplined my wicked horse.
I’d smile with my lips while being pestered.
My mystic stare, which used to burn in fury,
I’ve learned to hide, raised by a happy jester.
And now the jester’s dead: «Amen!» Poor Yurik.
And yet I disapproved of any sharing—
Of gains, rewards and privileges one has.
Then, suddenly for life I’ve started caring
And rode around the newly sprouted grass,
I watched our games with every single night
Turn more and more into disgrace of time.
And by the flowing rivers, I would hide
And wash myself from staining filth and slime.
I started to perceive, while growing duller,
I even missed my household’s affair.
Towards the people of this era I grew colder,
I hid myself in books and lost all care.
My brain, for wisdom greedy like a spider,
Grasped everything: the immobility and motion.
But what is wit when one cannot apply it?
When all around there’s an opposing notion?
With friends I tore the tread and I was free—
The thread of Ariadne was but a scheme.
I pondered on the words «to be or not to be,»
A problem with no answer as it seemed.
The sea of grief was splashing in diffusion.
We stood against it; we were sieving grain,
And filtering the blurry resolution
To a dilemma, which appeared inane.
Into a weak alloy, I’ve melted with each day,
And barely cool, it started to diffuse.
Like others, I’ve spilled blood and just like they
I was incapable my vengeance to refuse.
I’m Hamlet, I despised injustice and abuse!
I did not give a damn about the crown!
But in their eyes, I hungered fame and I’m accused
Of sending rivals to the throne into the ground.
The striking splash appears as an illusion
And death through birth emerges from a side.
And we’re still asking the deceitful solution
Not finding the question to abide.
Someone spotted a fruit.
Someone spotted a fruit, still unripe
Shook the branch and it fell, lacking poise
There’s one who did not sing a line
And was left unaware of his voice
Perhaps, he had conflicts with fate
And by chance, his plans went amiss
But the guitar string had already been laid
And its flaw was unknowingly missed
He started humbly with a «do. »
But never finished that one note
His first accord fell much too flat
He made an unexciting vice
A dog was barking, and a cat
Was chasing mice.
It’s funny, don’t you think it’s wry?
He left his joke halfway complete
He did not fully taste his wine
He didn’t even take a sip
He was only plotting his fret
He was timid and slow to begin
And his soul, in large droplets of sweat,
Still perspired from under his skin
He was starting a duel, so inane
He walked slowly onto the floor
Only grasping the rules of the game
While the ref hadn’t opened the score
He yearned to know so much at once
And yet, he never quite advanced
And no conclusion could be drawn
He never traveled deep enough
And her, the one who’s still alone,
He lacked a chance to fully love
It’s funny; don’t you think it’s droll?
He hurried, ran, but all in vain
And riddles that he hadn’t solved
Unsolved remained.
What I’m telling you now aren’t lies
He was pure to the style he held
On the snow, he was writing her rhymes
And it’s sad that the snow had to melt
But it was snowing that day, and at least
He was free to write on the snow
On the run, he would catch with his lips
Crystal flakes in their brilliant glow
But to her, in a silver-gilt surrey
He never made it all the way
He had no time to sprint nor fly
He never ran, the runaway
His star-sign—Taurus— from up high
Just lapped the ice-cold Milky Way
Seemed funny, didn’t it? Of course
To you and me, it surely did
A flying bird, a racing horse.
Whose fault is it?
The honor of the chess crown. Part I: Training
I was yelling: «You’re insane! What happened?
You have lost our prominence for chess!»
They responded from the sports department:
«You can help to lead us from this mess!
My friend, the soccer player, told me:
«He’s not used to playing such opponents.
For the rear and center do not worry,
But, attack him straight along the corners!»
In the bar, closed for the night,
The chef convinced me: «I just know it,
With that awesome appetite
You’ll eat his pieces in one moment!
Rest is most important— that is true!
Stuff your bag with food or else you’ll lose!
Make sure that you bring some pie. for two,
Your opponent is as talented as you,
But when it comes to food, he won’t refuse!»
Oh, we’re strong and won’t go down
And the crown we will win!
Like a pawn, I lay me down—
Wake up feeling like a queen!
The honor of the chess crown. Part II: The Game
Now I thank my fellow friend mechanic,
Who has taught me every piece’s route.
Later I have learned— that from the panic—
I have played a classical debut!
I could see—his fork begins to rattle—
Wants to eat—and I would eat the queen!
With this appetizer, I could use a bottle!
But alcohol’s prohibited within.
Then, just a notch of speed I’ve started gaining—
And all was not as dismal as it seemed.
In the world of chess, a pawn, with training
Can evolve, with time into a queen.
With deception my opponent played:
He’d get up and walk and come around.
He proposed to me a castle trade,
It is natural for him to be afraid—
When I bench three hundred lying down!
I diminished his small figure with my stare.
At the moment when he told me, «Check,»
I revealed my biceps, strong and bare,
Took my jacket off for more effect.
At that moment everything grew quiet
My opponent, watched me rise in awe
He forgot the game for just a while,
Realizing— he was held confined,
Suddenly agreed to have draw.
The nature reserve
Animal herds are swarming through copses
Not looking for water nor for a snack
They are fiercely pursuing hunters and horses
In their happy and cheerful flock
There are many in thickets, lurking and crawling
Annoying like crickets, weeping and bawling
Yowling and raving, hissing and flirting
Attention craving and self-supporting
The fish is swimming against powerful waves
You can virtually walk on it towards the ford
Wanting for once to be caught, each fish raves
To fall on the plate. and down the throat
The fish is cold-blooded, unlike the meat
It longs to get trapped in the fishermen’s net
It dreams of a spot on the stove, near the heat
With the broth by its gills, there’s nothing to dread
There are many swamps, slavishly swimming
Covered with lumps, beamingly gleaming
Sluggishly sleeping and hibernating
Dinner retrieving and dinner awaiting
Even the birds crave for shrapnel in flight
Slowly becoming more agile and neat
Just so the apples could fit loosely inside—
The thoughtful geese had nothing to eat
Courageous bird shows its power in hunting
It screams to the weak, «Allow me to pass!»
Then takes its own life with a wailing grunting,
Without shots being fired, it aims for the grass
There are many on branches, quietly squealing
Sitting in bunches, strange and appealing
Bawling and raving, signing and flirting
Attention craving and self-supporting
Fur-bearing beasts are tired of sweating
They desperately try to get shot and get caught
Not sharing their warmth is really degrading
And they often dream of shedding their coat
Just think for a minute, it’s kind of funny—
Walking into our banks by themselves
Thousands of dollars in effortless money
As fabulous fur stocks itself on the shelves
There are many in thickets, many in bushes
Annoying like crickets, voluptuously luscious
Engagingly raving, ferociously flirting
Attention craving and self-supporting
Cold-blooded, caring or simply barbarian
Pasture expending and vegetarian
Slowly decaying and microbe consuming
And self-displaying, glowing and blooming
Gloomily gleaming, harking and talking
Stirringly swimming, running and walking
Small and gigantic, strange and appealing
Raging and frantic, extensively squealing
Corrupted and evil and wickedly wild
Seemingly civil, harmless and mild
Beautiful, ravishing, radiance casting
Gradually vanishing, and century lasting
Sluggishly sleeping and hibernating
Dinner retrieving and dinner awaiting
Wearing white aprons, commanded to serve,
With posters «Don’t harm!» and lit up with zeal
The huntsmen protected the nature reserve
With one commandment «Thou shall not kill!»
There are many in thickets, frantic and hectic
Annoying like crickets, guarding, protecting
With passion ignited, intensively burning
Thrilled and excited, adventure yearning
Crawling and lurking, and face concealing
Cheerless and murky, and space depleting
Loudly grunting, running and standing
With pleasure hunting, with nature blending
Roaring and yelling and peace disturbing
Harshly compelling, clustering, swarming
In bushes hiding and heavily breathing
Mosquito fighting, jumping and heaving
Awaking the sleeping, marching, parading
Dinner retrieving and dinner awaiting
x x x
Debris—
Debris remaining from the crown
With no state, no throne around
There is no country left to govern—
All is damned!
And we’re—
Chased to holes like hunted game,
Caught like thieves to face the blame,
There’s only blood and shame,
To withstand!
And shame—
On all of those who value rest
On those, whose conscience is a pest,
Who cannot choose in all this mess
To kill.
x x x
My friends light up the candles for me still,
And in the smoke, your image is outlined,
And I don’t want to know that time will heal,
That everything will pass away with time.
No longer will I ever lose my verve,
For any burden on my soul and any pain,
Unknowingly, she took along with her—
At first, into the port, then on the plane.
Inside my soul there are deserted lands.
What are you seeking in this fruitless blur?!
There are just fragments of old songs and webs,
And all the rest she took along with her.
Inside my soul are goals without means.
Go dig inside,— you’ll find there, by chance,
Two simple phrases and unfinished scenes,
And all the rest is now in Paris, France.
My friends light up the candles for me still,
And in the smoke, your image is outlined,
But I don’t want to know that time will heal,
That everything will pass away with time.