Vysotsky you will understand what you learned. The lyrics of the song are a ballad about wrestling. Translation of the text of the song V. Vysotsky - Ballad of the struggle
Among the swollen candles and evening prayers,
Among war trophies and peaceful bonfires,
Lived book children who did not know the battles,
Exhausted from their petty disasters.
Children are always annoyed by their age and way of life,
And we fought to bruises, to mortal insults,
But our mothers patched our clothes on time,
We swallowed books, getting drunk from the lines.
Hair stuck to our sweaty foreheads,
And sucked sweetly from the phrases in the spoon.
And the smell of struggle circled our heads,
From the yellowed pages flying down to us.
And we tried to comprehend, who did not know wars,
For a warlike cry, taking a howl,
The secret of the word "order", the appointment of boundaries,
The meaning of the attack and the clanging of war chariots.
And in the boiling cauldrons of former wars and troubles
So much food for our little brains
We are on the role of traitors, cowards, Judas
In children's games, they appointed their enemies.
And the villain's traces were not allowed to cool,
And the most beautiful ladies promised to love
And calming friends and loving neighbors,
We introduced ourselves to the role of heroes.
Only in dreams you can’t run away for good,
A short age of fun, so much pain around.
Try to open the palms of the dead
And take weapons from hard-working hands.
Test it with a still warm sword
And putting on armor, what's the price, what's the price?!
Test who you are - a coward or a chosen one of fate,
And taste the real fight.
And when a wounded friend collapses nearby,
And over the first loss you will howl, grieving,
And when you are suddenly left without skin,
Because they killed him, not you.
You will understand that you have learned, distinguished, found,
He took it by the grin - this is the grin of death,
Lies and evil, see how their faces are rude
And always behind crows and coffins.
If you did not eat a single piece of meat from a knife,
If hands folded, watched from above,
But he did not enter into a fight with a scoundrel, with an executioner,
So, in life you were nothing, nothing to do with it.
If the path is cut through by the father's sword,
You wound salty tears on your mustache,
If in a hot battle I experienced what is how much,
So, you read the necessary books as a child. Amid oplyvshih candles and evening prayers,
Amid the spoils of war and peace fires
Lived book children who did not know the battles
Exhausted by their small catastrophes.
Children forever chagrin of their age and life,
And we fought to abrasions, injuries to death,
But we patched clothes mother at the time,
We book swallowed, drunk with strings.
Hair stuck in us on sweaty foreheads,
And sucked in his stomach from the sweet phrases.
And circled our heads smell struggle
From the pages yellowed Gathering of us.
And we tried to comprehend, not knowing wars
Warlike cry for taking howl
The mystery of the word "order" fiat boundaries
The meaning of the attack and the clang of war chariots.
And in boiling cauldrons previous wars and unrest
Much food for little of our brains
We are on the role of traitors, cowards, FTI
In their childhood games appointed enemies.
And the villain is not allowed to cool down the trail,
And beautiful ladies promised to love
And friends and neighbors comforted loving,
We were introduced to the role of heroes themselves.
Only in dreams can't permanently escape
short at age of fun, so much pain around.
Try to let go of the dead palm
And weapons to take out the tired hands.
Try it, seizing the sword still warm
And wearing armor that how much that how much?
Try who you are - a coward il chosen destiny,
And try the taste of the real struggle.
And when the next collapse wounded friend
And on the first loss you vzvoesh, grieving,
And when you stay without skin suddenly,
That's why they killed him, not you.
You will understand that I learned , featured , found ,
Grin took on - this death grin,
Falsehood and evil, look like their faces are rough,
And always behind the crow and coffins.
If the meat with a knife you did not eat a piece,
If the arms folded, watching from above,
And the fight is not joined with the rascal, with the executioner,
So in life you were innocent, innocent.
If the path cutting through her father's sword,
You salty tears into their heads wrapped,
If in a hot battle experienced that how much,
So your books you read as a child.
Among the swollen candles and evening prayers,
Among war trophies and peaceful bonfires,
Lived book children who did not know the battles,
Weary from their childhood disasters.
Children are always annoyed by their age and way of life,
And we fought to bruises, to mortal insults,
But our mothers patched our clothes on time,
We swallowed books, getting drunk from the lines.
Hair stuck to our sweaty foreheads,
And sucked sweetly from the phrases in the spoon.
And the smell of struggle circled our heads,
From the yellowed pages flying down to us.
And we tried to comprehend, who did not know wars,
For a war cry, taking a howl,
The secret of the word, the order, the position of the borders,
The meaning of the attack and the clanging of war chariots.
And in the boiling cauldrons of former wars and troubles
So much food for our little brains
We are on the role of traitors, cowards, Judas
In children's games, they appointed their enemies.
And the villain's traces were not allowed to cool,
And they promised to love the most beautiful ladies.
And calming friends and loving neighbors,
We introduced ourselves to the role of heroes.
Only in dreams you can’t run away for good,
A short run for fun, there are so many fields around.
Try to open the palms of the dead
And take weapons from hard-working hands.
Try it, taking possession of the still warm sword,
And putting on armor, what's the price, what's the price?!
Test who you are - a coward or a chosen one of fate,
And taste the real fight.
And when a wounded friend collapses nearby
And over the first loss you will howl, grieving,
And when you are suddenly left without skin,
Because they killed him, not you.
You will understand that you have learned, distinguished, found,
He took it by the grin - this is the grin of death,
Lies and evil, see how their faces are rude
And always behind crows and coffins.
If the path is cut through by the father's sword,
You wound salty tears on your mustache,
If in a hot battle I experienced what is how much,
So, you read the necessary books as a child.
If you did not eat a single piece of meat from a knife,
If hands folded, watched from above,
And he did not enter into a fight with a scoundrel, an executioner,
So, in life you were nothing, nothing to do with
Vladimir Vysotsky: Ballad About Struggle - Lyrics
Translation of the text of the song V. Vysotsky - Ballad of the struggle
Amid oplyvshih candles and evening prayers,
Among the spoils of war and peace fires
Once upon a book kids who did not know of battles,
Sputters from his childhood accidents.
Children forever vexation of their age and life,
And we fought to abrasions, injuries to death,
But our mother's clothes patched in time,
We swallowed the book, getting drunk on the strings.
Hair stuck to his sweaty foreheads of us,
And suck the stomach of sweet phrases.
And circling our heads odor control,
From the pages yellowed fly off on us.
And trying to understand us, who knew no war,
During the battle cry took howl
The secret word order position of the border ,
The meaning of the attack and the clang of war chariots.
And in the boiling cauldrons of previous wars and unrest
So much food for our little brains
We are on the role of traitors, cowards, FTI
In children's games, their assigned targets.
And the villain's footsteps not allowed to cool,
And the most beautiful ladies promised to love.
And comforting friends and neighbors loving,
We were introduced to the role of heroes themselves.
Only in dreams can't permanently escape
Short run at the fun, so the fields around .
Try to let go of the dead palm
And weapons to take out the tired hands.
Try it, taking possession of the sword still warm,
And wearing a suit of armor that how much that how much?
Try who you are - a coward il chosen destiny,
And try the taste of this struggle.
And when the next one will fall wounded
And on the first loss you vzvoesh, grieving,
And when you stay without skin suddenly,
That's why they killed him, not you.
You will understand that I learned , was featured , found ,
According grin took - it "s the death of a grin,
Falsehood and evil, look like their faces are rough,
And always behind the crow and coffins.
If the path cutting through his father's sword,
You salty tears into their heads wrapped,
If in a hot battle tested, how much
So your books you read as a child.
If the meat with a knife you do not eat any of the piece,
If the arms folded, watching from above,
And the fight did not come with a villain, the executioner,
Therefore, in the life you were innocent, innocent
Vladimir Vysotsky: The Ballad Of Fighting - Lyrics http://mirpesen.com/ru/vladimir-vysockij/ballada-o-bor-be.html # ixzz2MiM0KOlq
Among the swollen candles and evening prayers,
Among war trophies and peaceful bonfires
Lived book children who did not know the battles,
Exhausted from their petty disasters.
Children are always annoyed
Their age and lifestyle
And we fought to the bruises,
To mortal insults
But the clothes were patched
Us mothers on time -
We ate books
Drunk on the lines
Hair stuck to our sweaty foreheads,
And sucked sweetly from phrases in the spoon,
And the smell of struggle circled our heads,
From the yellowed pages flying down to us.
And tried to understand
We, who did not know wars,
For the war cry
Those who received the howl
The secret of the word "order",
setting boundaries,
Meaning of attack and clang
War chariots.
And in the boiling cauldrons of the old slaughterhouses and troubles
So much food for our little brains!
We are on the role of traitors, cowards, Judas
In children's games, they appointed their enemies.
And the villain's footsteps
Didn't let it cool
And the most beautiful ladies
They promised to love
And reassuring friends
And loving your neighbors
We are the heroes
They introduced themselves.
Only in dreams you can’t run away for good:
A short age of fun - so much pain around!
Try to open the palms of the dead
And take weapons from hard-working hands.
Experience it by taking possession
Another warm sword
And wearing armor,
What's up, what's up!
Find out who you are: a coward
Or the chosen one of fate -
And taste it
Real fight.
And when you suddenly remain without skin
Because they killed him - not you,
You will understand what you have learned
Distinguished, found
I took it on a grin -
This is the grin of death!
Lies and evil - look
How their faces are rough
And always behind
Crows and coffins!
If the meat from the knife
You haven't eaten a single piece
If hands are folded
Watched from above
And did not join the fight
With a scoundrel, with an executioner, -
So in life you were
Nothing, nothing!
If in a hot battle I experienced what how much, -
So you read the necessary books as a child!
Analysis of the poem "The Ballad of the Struggle" by Vysotsky
V. Vysotsky is a legend that went down in history and still lives in the bright hearts of fans and admirers.
In addition to the amazing poems that were later set to music, Vladimir Semenovich devoted most of his mature life to theater and cinema. “A talented person is talented in everything!” people exclaimed about him, constantly marveling at Vysotsky's performance both on the stage of the theater and on TV screens.
Emotions of incredible strength were transmitted through any distance and year. Only by passing every word and emotion through oneself could such acting out be achieved. And he did not play, but lived. Each time, he lived through this or that scene again and again, opening up and showing himself to people.
One of the iconic poems of Vladimir Semenovich Vysotsky was "The Ballad of the Struggle", written in 1975. This period in the life of the poet is characterized by a sharp rise. He fully reveals himself in all his undertakings and forever enters and remains in the hearts of millions of people.
The poem takes its rightful place among other military poems and songs created by the great bard, such as: “Song of the Earth”, “He who did not shoot”, “He did not return from battle”, “Sons go to battle”, “Reconnaissance fight”, “Fussy horses”.
In The Ballad of the Struggle, Vysotsky once again returns to the theme of war, friendship, life and death, dreams and oppressive reality, a place of heroism and shameful betrayals, childhood and growing up.
The main idea of the ballad, which runs like a thread through the whole work, is the embodiment of teenage and not yet quite mature ideals, service to one's Motherland, readiness for a feat, no matter what the cost. This idea is clearly expressed in the lines:
If, cutting through the path with his father's sword,
You wound salty tears on your mustache,
If in a hot battle I experienced what how much,
- So, you read the necessary books as a child!
Bright and well-chosen epithets help to penetrate into a truly deep meaning and comprehend the beauty of a poetic style, such as: peaceful fires, hot battle, book children.
Deep metaphors that let the reader exercise their imagination: books were swallowed, drunk from the lines; the smell of struggle circled our heads, flying from the yellowed pages to us; there is so much food for our little brains in the boiling cauldrons of the old slaughterhouses and confusions.
Such a rare technique as a multi-union:
And when a wounded friend collapses nearby
And over the first loss you will howl, grieving,
And when you are suddenly left without skin,
Because they killed him, not you.
Vladimir Semenovich made an invaluable contribution to entire generations, was, remains and will be relevant for many years to come.
