Vladimir Vysotsky. The Nature Reserve.

To the wood...

To the wood—

On the sledges and on the sleighs,
In the coats and in the sables—

As the rich as the unlucky men

Run out—to

The mysterious wood’s brake,
Every now and again—

To the wolfs and to the bears’ dens.

There abide,

Looking like the tired braves,
Venerable giant mates

In two girths and even in several ones.

And there I

Chew and swallow the air—
Yes, I’m only at this place—

Though behind the bars of trees—at large!


Main Page.