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Баллада о любви

Vladimir Semënovič Vysotskij / Владимир Семёнович Высоцкий
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BALLAD ABOUT LOVE

When, after all, the great deluge was over,
The seas came back within their coastal lines,
Out of the foam of the receding water
The love came out softly to the land.
And, for some time, it faded in the air,
And lasted for an eon and some then.

And some eccentrics that still do exist
Inhale with their full lungs that crazy mix,
Expecting neither scolding nor reward,
And thinking they are free to breath it in
They realize one day that they fit in
Somebody else's intermittent breathing.

But remember: a feeling’s like a boat
It’s afloat until you realize:
That the words «I love» mean simply that
«I can breathe» and «I am still alive».

There will be plenty of despair and roaming.
The land of love is the most noble land.
The knights of love will have to go through testing
With ever higher standards and demands.
They will be separated by a distance,
Devoid of leisure, sleep without rest.

But nothing in the world can turn them back.
Those madmen do agree to pay it back,
Pay any price, their lives won't be excepted
In order to preserve and to protect
Some indiscernible and magic thread
Which love between them now has extended.

Wind and snow swept them off their feet,
Made them drunk and raised them from the dead.
'Cause remember you have neither lived,
Nor have breathed, if you have never loved.

And most of them have choked with love forever.
They can't be reached no matter what you do.
They are accounted by idle talk and rumor,
And that account is laced with pure blood.
But we will light up candles in the memory
Of those who died from the unprecedented love.

Their souls, among the flowers, will run
And their voices will blend and sound as one.
They will inhale eternity together.
And somewhere, on a fragile river cross,
A narrow bridge across the universe
Holding their breath, they will meet each other.

I will open fields to those who love!
Let them sing awake and in their rest.
I do breathe and that means I'm in love.
I'm in love and that means I exist.
When the Deluge was over, and its current
Had to back down to former shore extents,
From hissing foam of a receding torrent,
Love quietly crawled out upon dry land
And strewed in air before the term was over,
In fact, the term was forty bags of sand...

And now, odd folk (there is this like around)
Are breathing rashly in this stuff full out,
Expecting no reward, disdaining failures,
And, unsuspecting, thinking they but breathe,
Are falling all at once into the rhythm
Of tremulous inhaling and exhaling...

Only there's a feeling that a ship
Has to stick around too long adrift,
Prior to cognizing that 'I live'
Equals to 'I love' or else 'I breathe'.

There'll be a lot of pilgrimage and veering:
The Realm of Love is a prodigious land;
Moreover, ever more severe ordeals
For chivalry of hers, she will demand:
She’ll rob of any rest, repose and sleep,
She’ll call for years of living far apart.

And still these madcaps can't be led astray,
In fact, they even are about to pay
Whatever price; they'd peril their lifeblood
In order to keep whole and to retain
A tenuous extraordinary braid,
Extending to the hearts of the beloved.

Bracing head breeze makes the chosen drugged,
Knocks off feet and raises the deceased,
Insomuch as if you haven't loved,
Then you haven't lived, nor have you breathed.

Alas, a lot of those, who gushed love out,
Will never hear you, call them as you will:
Folk’s hearsay and twaddle keep their count,
On blood, that count is much too often built.
Shall candles burn to decorate the shrouds
Of victims of inimitable bliss...

Shall their voices couple, keeping time.
In dales of flowers, shall their souls abide.
Shall they inhale eternity together.
Come they across each other with a sigh
At transient junction points of space and time,
On fragile bridges and on brittle gangways.

I shall lay for lovers dales of flowers:
Sing they when awake and in a sleep.
I draw breath, therefore I'm in love,
I’m in love, therefore I live.


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