Vladimir Vysotsky: Songs: Trans. by Boris Gendelev

Vysotsky's Lyrics: Translation by Boris Gendelev

Aborted Flight
Song of an Antisemite
Tightrope Walker

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Tightrope Walker
Russian title: Kanatokhodets
He was not born with stature or status
Not for glory, not for hire
With his own unusual verve
Through his life he walked high above us
On a wire, on a wire
Stretched out like a nerve

Look, he walks in plain sight, with no safety at all!
Just a tilt to the right – he will die in a fall
To the left should he slide – do not bother to pray
But calm down! He just needs to stay
For four quarters of the way

And the spotlights were breaking his tempo 
And like laurels needled along
The tuba was waking the dead
He was deafened by the shouts "bravo"
And the gong, and the gong
Like a thunderbolt in his head!

Look, he walks in plain sight, with no safety at all!
Just a tilt to the right – he will die in a fall
To the left should he slide – do not bother to pray
But calm down! He just needs to stay
For mere three quarters of the way

Ah, how scary, how charming, how daring
Just three minutes to resolution!
At this battle with death gaping wide
From the stands they were dismally staring -
Lilliputians, Lilliputians
They appear to him from the height

Look, he walks in plain sight, with no safety at all!
Just a tilt to the right – he will die in a fall
To the left should he slide – do not bother to pray
But don't panic!  He just needs to stay
For another two quarters of the way

He laughed at the fleeting renown
But aimed to be always the first
That sort is as tough as they come!
Tough as nails, right over the crowd
On the nerves, upon our nerves
He walked to the rolling drum!

Look, he walks in plain sight, with no safety at all!
Just a tilt to the right – he will die in a fall
To the left should he slide – do not bother to pray
But calm down! He just needs to stay
For a mere one quarter of the way

To the screams circus tigers reacted
On the stretcher placing paw tips
But his sentence was ruthless and plain
Overconfident or may be distracted 
In the wood chips, in the wood chips
He spilled his blood and his pain!
 
But today, someone else, with no safety at all!
A thin cord underneath  – he could die in a fall
Right or left should he sway – and for this one don't pray
But he too badly needs for some reason to stay
And walk four quarters of the way
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Aborted Flight
Russian title: Prervannyj polet
Someone spotted a fruit still young
Shook the trunk of the tree – it fell
I'll sing of the one who left songs unsung
Never learned if his voice would excel

Maybe Fate wouldn't cover his bets
And he got poor luck of the draw
Taut strings settled down on frets 
With a barely visible flaw

He started with a cautious beat     
But never managed to complete…
Unfinished cord rung out flat
Did not inspire or entice
A dog was barking while some cat
Was hunting mice

It is ironic, don't you think? 
He left unfinished jokes and quips
He left untasted golden drink 
And didn't even wet his lips

For debates he just opened the doors   
Still unsure and slow to begin
And like droplets of sweat though the pores 
His soul seeped right from under the skin

Only barely started to aim
Only barely stepped on the floor
Hardly even got into the game
And the judge hadn't opened the score

He reached for knowledge A to Z
But his ascent was not to be…
No revelations to impart
The well of wisdom hardly drilled
And love for she who held his heart
Left unfulfilled

It is ironic, don't you think?       
Stopped rushing hands on broken dial
And still remain out of synch 
All that he did not reconcile

From my lips not a falsehood could flow: 
For the pure verse fervor he felt
Wrote poems for her in the snow
But regrettably, snow poems melt

At the time blizzards dumped by the bale
There was freedom to write in the snow
And the biggest snowflakes and hail
He would catch with his lips on the go

He rode a silver-clad landau 
But never made it to her door
He ran, but did not break confine
He flew, but only reached partway
While Taurus, his celestial sign
Was lapping frigid Milky Way

It is ironic, don't you think? 
When by few seconds one falls short
When just a single missing link 
Makes flight abort

Ironic, isn't it?  Alright,
You laugh, and I cannot refrain
Horse in mid-race, bird in mid-flight…
Who is to blame?
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Song of an Antisemite
Russian title: Antisemity
Just being a hoodlum appears so trite
I ought to convert to an anti-Semite
This cause might not yet have the law on its side
But millions of zealots support it worldwide

One would get a thrashing if I so decide
But I need to know who is a Semite
What if they are held in the highest regard
What if for the trouble I get myself barred

But my drunkard pal with a wider worldview
Said that a Semite is just a plain Jew
Well, I am in luck, as it would appear
I am reassured there is nothing to fear

I worked up resolve, cause Albert Einstein
Was once a respected icon of mine
The people, forgive me, but I have to ask
Should Abraham Lincoln be also unmasked?

Among them, are many who suffered from Stalin
And highly respected by me Charlie Chaplin
My dear friend Rubin and victims of Nazism
And even the founding father of Marxism

But my drunkard buddy said after a job
The blood of the infants they drink, every drop
And I over drinks in a bar overheard
That they long ago crucified our Lord

Without more blood they simply can't do 
They tortured an elephant right in a zoo
Against our people committed high treason
And stole all the crops of the previous season

Along major highways they grabbed all the lots
Built luxury dachas and live there like gods
I'll maim and I'll burn, just to make them pay dues
To save our country, I club dirty Jews
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