Vladimir Vysotsky. Each and every thing...

Each and every thing

goes in its trodden trail:

Speak of what ye think —

and they’ll send you to jail,

Thieve — and also ye’ll

spend your time being locked,

Know a dangerous field —

and one day ye’ll be shot.

I believed in a short while the labor camps must be

Out of sight, out of sight,

But it turned out I came to this town blurred and dusty

With no life, with no life.

Crowds of people walk here but no person seems human,

Every look’s blank and dim.

I looked at the black faces appeared in the gloom and

Saw nor strangers nor kin.

Each and every thing

goes in its trodden trail:

Speak of what ye think —

and they’ll send you to jail,

Thieve — and also ye’ll

spend your time being locked,

Know a dangerous field —

and one day ye’ll be shot.

So why said I rude words to my star for its keenness?

What a sham, what a sham!

So why yearned I for so many years for deliverance

In the camp, in the camp?

Crowds of people walk here but no person seems human,

Every look’s blank and dim.

I looked at the black faces appeared in the gloom and

Saw nor strangers nor kin.

Each and every thing

goes in its trodden trail:

Speak of what ye think —

and they’ll send you to jail,

Thieve — and also ye’ll

spend your time being locked,

Know a dangerous field —

and one day ye’ll be shot.

1964.