Just say it – and I’ll learn to weave
And maybe even to sew
Just say it – and I’ll learn to live
And we will go with the flow
We’ll find some place far away
We’ll leave our shadows behind
And our days will be bright as day
And our nights will be dark as night
You’ll head for the wild woods
With rabbit-snares and a gun
Oh, we’ve never had it so good
Our life will be so much fun
I will bake muffins and pies
Darn your sweaters and socks
As for children – there will be five
And possibly even six
And grass will be growing tall
And sunshine will follow rain
And maybe, God help us all,
I’ll never sing again
And we will live and let live
We’ll take it easy and slow
Just say it – and I’ll learn to weave
And maybe even to sew.
LYRICAL SONG Words and music by V. Vysotsky
Here spruce-branches shiver, suspended in sleep,
Here birdsong is faint and beseeching.
You live in a forest, enchanted and deep,
Where no one can possibly reach you.
Let the ash-berry tree set the forest ablaze,
Let the creepers embrace you like lovers,
All the same I will take you away from this place
To a palace of music and flowers.
Your world has been languishing under a curse,
Concealed from my eyes and from sunlight.
And you are convinced that it’s heaven on earth,
This forest, forbidding and silent.
Let the moon spurn the clouds with a frown on her face,
Let the air drip its magical potion,
All the same I will take you away from this place
To a tower overlooking the ocean.
When finally I break the unbreakable charms,
You’ll slip through the curtains that hide you,
And then I will sweep you away in my arms
Where no one can possibly find you.
If you wish to be stolen, I’ll steal you of course.
There’s no end to the laws I’ve been breaking.
Won’t you settle for paradise under the stars
If the tower and the palace are taken.
From the movie White Desert Sun - words by B. Okudzhava, music by Isaac Schwartz
Your most gracious majesty, Lady Separation,
Your embrace is cold as ice, that’s the situation.
Send my letter flying like a wounded dove.
Unlucky in dying, better luck in love.
Your most gracious majesty, Lady of Blue Yonder,
You will never take me home, only make me wander.
I’m a helpless fly in your soft velvet glove.
Unlucky in dying, better luck in love.
Your most gracious majesty, Lady Luck, my precious,
Some are kindled by your flames, other turn to ashes.
Now the chips are down, I am calling your bluff.
Unlucky in dying, better luck in love.
Your most gracious majesty, Lady of Salvation,
So the game’s not over yet, and that’s the situation.
The Hounds of Hell are crying - hold on, call them off!
Unlucky in dying, better luck in love.
Words and music by B. Okudzhava
My horse is exhausted, my shoes are worn down at the heel.
Which way shall I ride, will you tell me, which way shall I ride?
Along the Red River, my joy, down towards the Blue Hill,
Keep riding towards the Blue Hill, by the Red River’s side.
But where is that river? My horse is exhausted tonight.
And how do I get to the hill, will you answer me, please?
Just head for the bright light, my joy, yes just head for the light,
Just head for the bright light, my joy, you will find it with ease.
But where is that bright light, pray tell me, why doesn’t it gleam?
I’ve carried the sky on my shoulders for many a night.
The lamplighter lights it, but he is asleep, it would seem
He must be asleep, and I’ve nothing to do with the light.
He melts in the night like a stone through a bottomless lake,
With nothing to guide him, not even a star in the sky.
But what are you after, my joy? I exclaim in his wake.
Good heavens, if only I knew it myself, he replies.
Words and music by V. Vysotsky
Who cares that your old lady’s always nagging?
Who cares that your career just took a dive?
Who cares that, once again, you’re off the wagon?
Be thankful that at least you’re still alive.
No sweat - your only jacket doesn’t wear well.
No sweat - the nightmares kept you up till five.
No sweat - somebody mugged you in the stairwell.
Be thankful that at least you’re still alive.
Oh well - you’ll never play the ukulele.
Oh well - you’re looking pale and sleep deprived.
Oh well - your hair’s been falling out lately.
Be thankful that at least you’re still alive.
So what if you’ve got footprints on your forehead?
So what if you are breaking out in hives?
So what if your cholesterol is horrid?
Be thankful that at least you’re still alive.
Big deal - you are a nail and not a hammer.
Big deal - another summons has arrived.
Big deal - your spent your weekend in the slammer.
Be thankful that at least you’re still alive.
It’s true - a man must pay for every blunder.
It’s true - I’ve made the bed in which I lie.
It’s all so very true - I only wonder,
Whom do I thank that I am still alive?
[Adapted from a translation by <A HREF=”http://www.elnitsky.com/vysotsky.html”>Serge Elnitsky</A>
Words and music by Yuri Vizbor
People say, ‘Don’t worry, love is always new.
Soon you’ll find your soulmate, fair and flawless.’
All I need is just a single glimpse of you,
And I’ll ask for nothing else, I promise.
Once again the cranes are winging through the blue.
Leaves are falling in the golden forest.
All I need is just a single word from you,
And I’ll ask for nothing else, I promise.
Put your arms around me, say a word that’s true.
You are both my anguish and my solace.
All I need is just a single life with you,
And I’ll ask for nothing else, I promise.
Words and music by B. Okudzhava
When you see the raven fly
Trouble’s brewing in the sky.
If you let the raven soar,
If you let the raven soar,
Everyone is off to war.
For the war to pass us by
We must shoot the raven down.
And to shoot the raven down,
And to shoot the raven down,
First you have to load the gun.
And when the guns are loaded - why,
Everyone will want to try.
And when the bullet starts to fly
When the bullet starts to fly,
It will find you by and by.
See, the bullet doesn’t care
Who to sting and who to spare.
Be you for or be you friend
It will get you in the end,
Till there’s no one left to stand.
No one’s left - and that is that.
Nothing’s left - and that is that.
Nothing’s left - and that is that
But the raven overhead.
No one’s there to shoot him dead.
Lyrics and music by V. Vysotsky
Through my dreams - a blinding light,
And a voice is moaning
Not tonight! Please not tonight!
I’ll be fine come morning.
But the morning’s just as bad
All the fun is over
Choking on a cigarette
Toasting my hangover.
In the tavern - pain on ice
Venison in season
Fools’ and beggars’ paradise
And my wide-open prison
In the church it’s damp and grey
Candles glow like rubies
No, the church is not the way
Not the way it should be
Up the hill, no time to stop
Better safe than sorry
There’s an alder up on top
And down below a cherry
Drape the slope with moss at least
Make it look less shabby
But everything’s the way it is
And not the way it should be
Way across the river shadows loom
God, where are you hiding?
In the meadows bluebells bloom
And the road is winding
Woods are deep around the bend
Full of witches lurking
And if you make it to the end
There’s a hangman smirking
Horses prancing far away
Beautiful and bashful
It’s all wrong along the way
And in the end especially
Well you can drink or you can pray
Won’t do you any good
No, my friends, it’s not the way
Not the way it should be.
Lyrics and music by B. Okudzhava
As long as the world’s still turning,
As long as the air’s still sweet,
Lord, won’t you give to all of us
Whatever it is we need.
Give a mind to the wise one,
A shield to the enemy,
Give some gold to the happy man,
And don’t forget about me.
As long as the world’s still turning,
Lord, if it be your will,
Give to the hungry for power
A kingdom to rule his fill.
Give some rest to the generous
Under a shady tree,
Wash the stain from the face of Cain,
And don’t forget about me.
I know that your powers are wondrous,
I believe that your ways are wise,
The way that a fallen soldier
Believes he’s in paradise,
The way every breathing being
Believes in your gentle word,
The way, in our utter oblivion,
We keep on believing, oh Lord.
My all-wise, my all-merciful,
My sweet Lord of sea-green eyes,
As long as the world’s still turning
To its eternal surprise,
As long as it still has plenty of
Fire and destiny,
Give a little to everyone,
And don’t forget about me.
Words and music by V. Vysotsky
I’m simmering with unexploded anger,
I’m set to blow like 20 tons of TNT.
The Muse dropped by the other night - but dang’er!
She up and left, didn’t even stay for tea!
I honestly can’t blame her for departing,
I’m sure she had good grounds to walk away.
Just think: the Muse, at night, in my apartment.
Imagine that! What would the neighbors say?
Yet I am hurt, I’m feeling sad and weakened,
I wasn’t even worth a one-night stand!
And yet with Blake, I hear, she hung our every weekend.
With Byron, she would stay for weeks on end.
I hurried to my desk, for greatness famished.
Here comes an epic poem, nothing less!
But she is gone, my inspiration vanished,
As did 10 dollars - for a cab, I guess.
I pace the dirty floor, all hot and bothered.
Still, I forgive her, even though it’s tough.
She went away, she left me for another,
My company just wasn’t good enough.
The giant cake with candles meant to dazzle
Has crumbled, and I’m down with the blues.
My so-called friends, meanwhile, have found and guzzled
The French champagne intended for the Muse.
The years slip by like undiscovered island.
My life has soured like mediocre wine.
She went away in enigmatic silence,
And yet she left me two amazing lines.
Two perfect lines - no poet ranks above me!
Now fame and fortune’s sure to come my way!
Two perfect lines: “Thou art so temperate and lovely!
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
[Adapted from a translation by Serge Elnitsky]