Vladimir Vysotsky variacii na cyganskie temy

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In my dream – yellow lights,
Wheezing in my sleep;
A while longer, a whole longer,
In the morning I'll be fine!
But in the morning everything's wrong,
The joy is gone;
Either you smoke on an empty stomach,
Or you quench a hangover.
Hey one, yes
Once again;
Hey one, yes
Many-many more times…
In the bars; green tablecloths
And white napkins.
Heaven for the poor and slobs,
But for me – like a bird in a cage!
In the church; stench and gloom,
Preachers burning incense.
No! Even in church everything's wrong,
Not as it should be.
To the mountain I rush,
So that something there might be,
On the mountain stands an alder,
While below a cherry tree;
If only there were ivy on the slope;
I'd get some joy from it,
If only anything else;
It's not as it should be.
Hey one, yes
Once again;
Hey one, yes
Many-many more times…
Then to the field I go,
Along the river bank;
Some light, some darkness – but no God!
While in the pure field;
There are cornflowers and a distant road.
Along the road there's a deep forest
With Baba-Yaga witches;
And at the road's end;
Chopping blocks and axes.
Somewhere the stallions dance in tune,
Unhurried and easy.
Along the road everything is wrong,
But at the end; completely.
Neither in church nor the in the bar-
Nothing is held holy!
No, my friends; everything's wrong,
Everything's wrong, my friends!
Hey one, yes
Once again;
Hey one, yes
Many-many more times…

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