Vladimir Vysotsky. A Song of Rossia.

The crown...

The crown

Is broken into many pieces,
There’s no more the usual sequence
The old way and the religion

Now are damned!

And we

Being gotten into a scandal
Just like bears closed in their caverns,
Just like burglars caught red-handed

Have to stand!

For us,

It’s so difficult to sort out
What to keep and what to cross out,
Who’re agreeable, who’re opposed.
From this mess, where should we go out?

We can’t tell!

Where’s spirit? Where’s honor? Where’s guilt?!

Where are friends and where are strangers,
How could we neglect this danger,
Can we really cast our land and

Go to hell?!

And shame

Upon those who choose safe living
Stead of fighting for fair being,
And who count that always killing

Is a sin!

We’ll go

As a wolf runs for the deerlet,
As an eagle swoops for the cygnet,
But before kites should be whistled

For their meal.

Hey you!

Where’s the strength that lit your faces?
Where’s the pride with which you gazed round?
Doing nothing will disgrace you!

Grip revolvers firmly in your hands and go!

The end! The end to all!

What isn’t broken seems to be brittle,
And we’re left with just a little

Till our very death, to fight against the foe!

1965.

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