On Volodya Vysotsky.
Written by Bulat Okudzhava.
I was going to write a good song on Volodya Vysotsky—
As all his predecessors, he’ll never come back from this trip.
Some declare that he was an imprudent and prodigal person...
He lived as he was able to, one won’t find the sinless ’mongst people.
Our parting won’t long, in a moment we’ll also be no-shows,
And tread in his hot steps; for each person, that trip is ordained.
Let his hoarse baritone, as before, make circles o’er his loved Moscow,
And, together with him, we’ll be mournful or mirthful again.
I was aiming to write a good song on Volodya Vysotsky,
But was trembling my hand, and the melody didn’t fit the song...
To the black sinful Earth, has come down the black stork of Moscow,
And the white Moscow stork to the white spotless Heaven has gone.