Vladimir Vysotsky
' Hadn't returned from the battle...
(the song)
Why I'm feeling today not as usual? Why?
Both the forest and air are gentle.
Overhead I could see such a usual sky,
But he hasn't returned from the battle.
And I can't understand - who was right, who was wrong
In the disputes such sleepless and restless.
I'm feeling the lack up to moment and long,
'Cause he hasn't returned from the battle.
He was awkward in words and was out of tune,
He has touched every time trifling matters.
He prevented to sleep, he got up with a dawn,
Yesterday failed to be from the battle.
I could mention - my talk not about the void,
All at once I've felt - double mettle.
And the fire of friendhsip died without uphold,
When he hadn't returned from the battle.
And the spring is today breaking out of chains.
I've called him by name and mistaken:
"Friend, leave smoke to me", no answer to gain.
Yesterday he was lost in the battle.
Since the day our passed couldn't leave us in grief,
They are serving today as a patrol.
As a mirror to sky wood is quiet and still,
And the trees in the wood like blue metal.
Our hut was for us so spacious enough,
Seconds passed as for twins in a rattle,
All today only mine, but I take this too tough,
As I've failed to return from the battle.
translated by L.P.
------
Владимир Высоцкий
Он не вернулся из боя
Почему все не так, вроде все, как всегда,
То же небо - опять голубое,
Тот же лес, тот же воздух и та же вода,
Только он не вернулся из боя.
Мне теперь не понять - кто же прав был из нас
В наших спорах без сна и покоя,
Мне не стало хватать его только сейчас,
Когда он не вернулся из боя.
Он молчал невпопад и не в такт подпевал,
Он всегда говорил про другое.
Он мне спать не давал, он с восходом вставал,
А вчера не вернулся из боя.
То, что пусто теперь – не про то разговор,
Вдруг заметил я – нас было двое.
Для меня словно ветром задуло костер,
Когда он не вернулся из боя.
Нынче вырвалась будто из плена весна
По ошибке окликнул его я:
"Друг, оставь покурить",- а в ответ - тишина:
Он вчера не вернулся из боя.
Наши мертвые нас не оставят в беде,
Наши павшие как часовые,
Отражается небо в лесу, как в воде,
И деревья стоят голубые.
Нам и места в землянке хватало вполне,
Нам и время текло для обоих,
Все теперь – одному. Только кажется мне,
Это я не вернулся из боя.
----
см. также
перевод Вячеслава Чистякова
Why is everything wrong?! Still it looks like the same –
The same sky in the color of cobalt.
The same woods, the same air, the water is tame -
But he hasn’t returned from a combat.
I will not apprehend, me or he - who was right
While debating at nights in a shelter, but
I have started to miss him – just he wasn’t in sight, -
When he had not returned from a combat.
He was awkwardly silent, sang – a nasty surprise,
Always spoke deviating from a standard.
He impeded my sleep, he got up at sunrise.
Yesterday - wasn’t back from the combat.
Now empty is here, but it isn’t the point,
I feel - the wind's blown out the candle.
I have noticed at sudden, how tightly we’re joined,
When he had not returned from a battle.
Now spring’s broken away the capture of cold,
By mistake I have asked as a robot:
Hey pal, let a smoke! - but the air is bold:
Yesterday - wasn’t back from the combat.
Our dead won't ever leave us in trouble,
Our fallen guard us like sentinels.
The sky blooms the forest, either calm or humble,
And the trees there are standing in blueness.
There were quite enough room at our dug-out,
The time for both of us glided or rattled.
Now all is for me. But I’m feeling about:
It was me who didn’t come out of a battle.