Speaking In Tongues
Scribbling In Voices

VLADIMIR VYSOTSKY

Translated by Maya Jouravel

Translation, Maya Jouravel, 1994-2000



BALLAD ABOUT LOVE


When, after all, the great deluge was over,
The seas came back within their coastal lines,
Out of the foam of the receding water
The love came out qui'tly to the land.
And, for some time, it faded in the air,
And lasted for a forty forties span.

And some eccentrics that still do exist
Inhale with their full lungs that crazy mix
Expecting neither scolding nor rewarding
And thinking they are free to breath it in
They realize one day that they fit in
Somebody else's intermittent breathing.

But remember: feeling like a boat
Is afloat until you realize:
That the words I love mean simply that
I can breath and I am still alive.

There will be plenty of despair and roaming.
The land of love is the most noble land.
The knights of love will have to go through testing
With ever higher standards and demands.
They will be separated by a distance,
Devoid of leisure, sleep without rest.

But nothing in the world can turn them back.
Those madmen do agree to pay it back
With any price, their lives won't be excepted
In order to preserve and to protect
Some indiscernible and magic thread
Which is by love between them now extended.

Wind and snow swept them off their feet,
Made them drunk and raised them from the dead
'Cause remember you have neither lived,
Nor have breathed, if you have never loved.

And most of them have choked with love forever.
They can't be reached no matter what you do.
They are accounted by idle talk and rumor,
And that account is kneaded on the blood.
But we will light up candles in the memory
Of those who died from the unknown love.

Their souls will always roam the blossomed rink,
And their voices then will blend in rhythm.
They will inhale eternity together.
And somewhere on a fragile river cross,
On narrow bridges of the universe
With a deep breath, they will then meet each other.

I will open fields for those who love!
Let them sing awake and in their rest.
I do breathe and that means I'm in love.
I'm in love and that means I exist.


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* * *


The hanging fir paws are trembled by wind,
While chirping of birds is quite anxious.
You live in a wild and so spellbound weald
From which an escape is so hopeless...
Let the bird-cherry tree dry to death in the blast.
Let the lilac leaves fall off like raindrops.
I am still gonna take you away from this place
To the palace with sounds of reed-pipes!

Your world by the wizards for ten hundred years
Is hidden from me and from sun rays.
Thus you still believe that there's nothing so dear
And beautiful as this blear forest.
Let the moon be at odds with the overcast sky.
Let the leaves have no dew in the morning.
I am still gonna take you away from this site
To the tower facing the briny!

Which day of the week, what a glorious hour
You'll come to me out of your hiding,
And I'll carry you far away in my arms
Where nobody will ever find you.
I will steal you away if it pleases your heart!
Didn't I squander in vain all those past years?
Look, I promise you heaven within our hut,
Should there be no tower or palace.


* * *

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THE FASTIDIOUS HORSES


By the cliff, along the precipice, right over deadly ground,
With the rod, I strike my horses, strike them more to urge them forward.
There is no air to breath -- I gulp the haze -- I drink the rough wind.
With a fatal rapture, sensing: I am ruined, I am ruined!

Slow down a bit my horses, slow down, please!
Don't you listen to that stinging thong!
But what the horses I run into, so fastidious!
Neither lived I so long, nor I'll finish the song...
I'll let horses to drink, I'll complete this refrain,
Just a little bit more I will stay on the brink...

I'll be gone -- swept off a palm -- like a fluff, by a heavy twister.
In a sledge -- I will be dragged -- galloping in a snowy morning.
Can't you switch from gallop race -- to unhurried pace, my horses.
Do prolong -- at least somewhat -- to the last refuge -- my final journey.

Slow down a bit my horses, slow down, please!
Don't take orders from my whip and thong!
But what the horses I run into, so fastidious!
Neither lived I so long, nor I'll finish the song...
I'll let horses to drink, I'll complete this refrain,
Just a little bit more I will stay on the brink...

We're on time -- to visit God -- there is no such thing as lateness.
So why the angels, over there sing with those malicious voices?
Or perhaps it's just a bell -- which is choked with sob and wail as --
I beg to slow down the sledge -- I shout at my crazy horses.

Slow down a bit my horses, slow down, please!
I am begging you, don't rush along!
But what the horses I run into, so fastidious!
Since I havent lived long, let me finish the song...
I'll let horses to drink, I'll complete this refrain,
Just a little bit more I will stay on the brink...




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Our Sons Leave For The War

There will be no heartquake to hear for today
As its for those flower gardens
The lead in my chest -- as Im passing away,
It crosses my mind, swift and ardent:
No coming back this time, Im downed.
Somebody else will set the score
We had no chance, we had no chance to turn around
And our sons, and our sons leave for the war.
One thought -- after him -- even hell can break loose!
Abandoned his trench for the abyss.
I stepped out of mine for the opposite use -
To leave no hell for survivors.
Before I know my eyes shot down,
And soon I will embrace the earth
We had no chance, we had no chance to turn around
And our sons, and our sons leave for the war.

In time for attack, who is filling my spot?
The coveted bridge, who will reach it?
And deep in my heart, I had wished for that lad
Who hasnt grown up to his trench-coat.
I smiled before I hit the ground.
I know who will set the score
We had no chance, we had no chance to turn around
And our sons, and our sons leave for the war.
Explosions have silenced our heartbeat tonight,
But pounded mine with new meaning
That end of me isnt a final one yet -
Its somebody elses beginning.

Before I know my eyes shot down.
Somebody else will set the score
We had no chance, we had no chance to turn around
And our sons, and our sons leave for the war.

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