Vladimir Vysotsky. The Interrupted Flifht.
There’s only ice above me and below.
What will I break — the bottom or the top?
Forget thy fears, I’ll go up with the hope
On our meeting, and my further job.
Ice of the top, get a breakdown and crack!
I sweat for like a tiller in the season.
To thee, my love, I’ll certainly be back,
Just as I wrote of in that old sea song.
My age is young — I’ve crossed my forties slightly,
Thank the Lord God and thee that I’m alive.
I’ve gotten what to sing to the Almighty,
And I believe it’ll justify my life.