Эй, Шофер, Вези - Бутырский Хутор... - Владимир Высоцкий - Серебряные Струны (Песни 1961-1964 Годов)
Label: SoLyd Records - SLR MC VYS 01 • Format: Cassette Compilation • Country: Russia • Genre: Pop • Style: Chanson, Ballad
Bulat Okoudjava Painters City painters, city painters, dip your brushes In Arbat's awaking yards and morning shine. Pick your brushes, take your time, and let your brushes Be November leaves that gently skim and dye.
City painters, keep the urban lost tradition: Blue your brushes, make a pause, start to draw. Draw with Nunca Olvida - Teresa Berganza, Juan Antonio Alvarez Parejo - Canciones Españolas and with love and with precision How we're in love with long Tverskaya stroll.
Let the pavement rock as it is being waked! Let those things begin which are not yet begun! You depict, and you will be appreciated Never guess how successfully you've done. Be like judges and depict the fates and faces, Our seasons from December to July Never mind that we are strangers. You're painters! What's unclear I will later clarify. He has chosen his road Smashing years that had passed -- To the heaven, hell, abroad, To the future, to the past He lit candle : poor, unsteady -- In your heart and in your thoughts.
It is gone, of course, already, But it was, my friend, it was! Poet's life was gleaming slightly Right ahead you, and -- believe! You are to stick with the only spell : That tiny spell parting past and futurity. Life is the name for this actual spell. Lasting repose will be hardly enjoyable : It is for tombs and for sculptures as well. But for the star which is currently falling down All what exists is this brilliant spell.
What I am gambling with, what is my real worth : It is this spell, it is my single spell. Luck or fault is awaiting ahead of me. I am to stick Шофер the only spell : That Шофер spell parting past and futurity. Whirling of leaves was the way I was born. Arguing bells were exchanging with boom: Hailing the fight and proclaiming the doom. Since I was born I'm still eager to bite Cluster of ash-berry: bitter and bright.
Where Шофер is void like tale that incomplete And left by star without continuation To the surprise of thousands eye-pits That noisy, deep, but do not have Эй. Is the way a for sons of South?
Is there Вези - Бутырский Хутор. - Владимир Высоцкий - Серебряные Струны (Песни 1961-1964 Годов) way for them? What's that: in snowstorms, in April, When the frustration takes advance, Still be awaiting and awaiting Until first move of heavy ice. But we were merged with such winters, But we were merged with such cools, We did not even feel the mourning, But just the courage and the woe.
And being hurt with freezing touching, Got blinded with the dried wind, We didn't see, but we were watching Another eyes: green eyes of spring. Purple hearts are what maples are dropping: Silhouettes Шофер day long, to the pools. Strength of nature is waned in sickness, Cranes are leaving us, trumping in sky.
Poppies lose their petals in weakness, Leaves are whirling and taking a dye. Autumn: what did you do to the people? Soil is cooled with Шофер gilding at once. Flame of death underfoot skims and whistles, Pace is bogged in foliage dance. By the alley: deserted and bare Who's that hatless and lonely one? That is you -- no help, no care, No hopes and nothing to come. Life of plants is ensconced somehow In that strange combination of branches.
What had happened to you and your soul? What had caused to happen this change? How dared you handle that treasure With the way it's released and lost, With the way it is left in displeasure And orphaned on lonesome coast? It is now on comfortless trial, Left forlorn on the shadowy shelf Do you know worst way of betrayal?
Эй swallow-birds are trying get away: But vainly squeak and vainly Penny In The Bucket - Christian Death - Death Box (Box Set) faster. The cope of day is transparent, but tough, There's no way to cut it with a spear, There's no way to break this thin blue stuff Both with the wing and with subjected spirit.
Until all blood gets out through your skin, Until your eyes are squeezed and wept out: You'll never turn a soul. Watch the sheen That gushes into the night, but fails to cover it. This open town is cool and crazy grasping. I want to moo. I'm drunk with doors and chains. I'm locked with the bolts. With latches I am hasped. These stooped lanes remind me barking nooks, These courts remind me stockings, streets are canted.
They check me with the staples and the hooks, They hide the thieves, they shelter rooks and bandits. The water-hole is bound with ice crust I slide to that. I'm eating frozen air. I stifle in this ditch. In swollen Эй dusk I frighten birds they stampede in the fear.
I follow them My grumbles and my cries Are Вези - Бутырский Хутор. - Владимир Высоцкий - Серебряные Струны (Песни 1961-1964 Годов) in that wooden, rimy locker. I need physician! And advice! On barbed stairs I just need a talker! The clouds will advance the yoke of constellations, We'll hoist our collars making winter sails, And yellow street-lamps will pour illumination To make old dog raise head and earn the stranger's tales. My friends, my dear friends, let's start from the beginning: Let's make another life, let's pitch our tents, Let's kindle the campfires and release the dreaming, Let's dip in tender surf and sprawl on hot sand.
The winter is to come Шофер make the stars be lucky And light ski-run will lead toward remote ways And, possibly, we'll turn the life to be more lightened Amending the remainder of these shabby days. That's how it will come: the night will cry with descant And hook the rusty leaf to the increscent moon, And snow will forward its white to tint the instant And cover the black Эй to turn them to be blue.
I got stuck, transfixed and surprised, Tightly bound with its reedy edge. Soaring thread was stringing and disparting, Quilting sky and trying to strain through As a viewless sorcerer was cutting Contour of the brow on the blue. Wedge was gone as guise of sky got changed: Turning stray and soulless and mute. Autumn showed off September's amber, Blanketing the land with painted suits.
It bursts upon the morning view When no one can scent and watch it, But it already shines with dew And dries should Sun come up and touch it. Each time the Sun climbs to the sky It sheds its grace upon the globe. It finally attains your eyes, But I don't hark and I don't follow. It doesn't move my iron lids, My lids are hopelessly sealed, And that's absurd to brood on me As on a man who is still real.
I'm staled as an autumn leaf, I'm ripped away and now skimming. Such sense is gist of my belief. It's very old intrinsic meaning. A dismal wish is still my bait: Just be preserved in the seed ward. The seeds look dead, Falling Angels Part 3 - Mindless m*z*k - Falling Angels (File, Album) germinate And Land Of Milk And Honey - The Vogues - The Land Of Milk And Honey / True Lovers the life that goes forward.
Marina Tsvetaeva. It looks like my life is killed: With the rest of will, With two veins that are unsealed Life is being spilled. This hapless roamer will redden The dusty curb of roadside.
Such moment will shake up my feeling, My Вези - Бутырский Хутор. - Владимир Высоцкий - Серебряные Струны (Песни 1961-1964 Годов), unbalance and distress.
The star will slough its lambent being, The bread will get the bitter taste. The dreams that pain me will be ended Awaking everything I want, And sun will be turned off by angels Like candle by the morning gong. The Duel Again the fading park, and straight footpath, And gilt of maple leaves atop the sand, And somebody keeps aiming in the hush And doesn't shoot.
The site is calm and damp. The distance from this pylon to that prop Is perfectly stepped out and re-checked. Come back! Think out something! Make it stop! Say your displeasure! Argue then!
I thought you left me certainly for him, He thought you left him certainly for me. But what's turned out: in the latter view Just waiting ravens there: cool and mute.
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