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!


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