Vladimir Vysotsky. We Have Gone.


I. Sonny, listen to a tale...

Sonny, listen to a tale,
Which wasn’t ever in print
It’s about the big bale
From the guests unforeseen,

It’s about the escape
And the trap’s deadly grip...
Sonny, listen to a tale,
Don’t fall thou asleep.

And there’s also some stuff
I have no wish to rake,
But it troubles me sometimes,
Grasps me and suffocates.

Yet at night, there’s no reason
To re-open those old deals...
It’ll be better for thee
To see thy happy dreams.

It’s, dear sonny, thy old man
He knows what is what.
He saw various contexts
And knew lots of folks.


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