Vladimir Vysotsky. There Was Once a Man.
A Robber Song.
In the darkest corner of
In offense he walked knee-deep, yeah, knee-deep,
Sometimes was submerged he,
And his endless, cruel grief
Can be called unearthly.
Drink until it makes thee bloated
Through the wide world grim fate drives
As for those who dared to walk, dared to walk
For evil luck on highways —
They were driven by the winds cold
Straight into the dark jails.
There’s no mercy here, it’s hopeless —
What a wild, what a troubled land,
Satan takes in his own hands those who’re hanged,
Their bare heels he’s licking.
There’s no even an earthly chance,
And folks call this living!
Laugh, don’t weep and quit thy groaning —
Thoughts are bitter when comes night,
There’s no sense for thee in thinking of this —
What’s good in the slow motion?
And the rope that waits for thee
Surely has no knots on.
Better lie down where it’s warmest —