The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #107478 Message #2228099
Posted By: GUEST,Volgadon
04-Jan-08 - 06:35 AM
Thread Name: Lyr Add: The Wolf Hunt (Russian)
Subject: Lyr Add: The Wolf Hunt (Russian)
One of the great protest songs. By Vladimir Vysotsky. http://www.kulichki.ru/vv/pesni/rvus-iz-sil-i.html chords and audio are there. I won't comment on the meaning. Draw your own conclusions. I will say this, that it was written after some very harsh criticism of Vysotsky appeared in the Soviet press.
Èäåò îõîòà íà âîëêîâ, Èäåò îõîòà. Íà ñåðûõ õèùíèêîâ Ìàòåðûõ è ùåíêîâ, Êðè÷àò çàãîíùèêè, È ëàþò ïñû äî ðâîòû, Êðîâü íà ñíåãó è ïÿòíà êðàñíûå ôëàæêîâ.
AKHOTA NA VALKOF
Rvus iz sil, i iz vsyekh sukhazhily, no syevodnya apyat, kak fchyera, ablazhili menya, ablazhili, gonyet vyesela na namera.
Iz-za yeli khlopochut dvustvolki, tam akhotniki pryachutsa v tyen. na snyeguy kuvyrkayutsa volki, pryevvratish v zhivuyu mishyen.
Idyot akhota na valkof, idyot akhota. na syerykh khishnikof matyorykh i shyenkof. krichat zagonshiki, i layut psy da'rvoty. krof na snyegu i pyatna krasniye flazhkof.
Nye na ravnykh igrayut s valkami yegerya, no nye drognyet ruka. agradiv nam svabodu flazhkami, byut uvyerena, navyernyeka!
Volk nye mozhyet narushit traditsy. vidna, v dyetstvye, slyepiye shyenki, my, valchata, sasali valchitsu i vsasali: nyelzya za flazhki!
Nashi nogi i chyelyusti bystry. pachyemu zhye, vazhak, day atvyet, my zatravlyeno rvyomsa na vystryel i nye prabuyem chyerez zapryet?
Volk nye dolzhyen, nye mozhyet inachye! vot kanchayetsa vremya mayo: tot, katoramy ya pryednaznachyen, ulybnulsa i podnyal ruzhyo.
No ya iz pavinoveniya vyshel, za flazhki: zhazhda zhizni silnyey, tolka szadi ya s radastyu slyshal izumlyeniye kriki lyudyey.
Rvus iz sil, iz vsyekh sukhazhily, no syevodnya nye tak, kak fchyera. ablazhili menya, ablazhili, no astalis ni s chyem yegerya!
Idyot akhota na valkof, idyot akhota. na syerykh khishnikof matyorykh i shyenkof. krichat zagonshiki, i layut psy da'rvoty. krof na snyegu i pyatna krasniye flazhkof.
THE WOLF HUNT
I run with all my might, my sinews bursting but today, just like yesterday, they've surrounded me, surrounded, merrily hunting by turns.
From behind the fir trees ring out rifles, the hunters shelter there under the shade. on the snow wolves are flipping head over heels, turned into living targets.
The hunt for wolves is on, the hunt is on. on silvery predators, mothers and cubs. the beaters shout, the hounds bark until they are near to retching. there is blood on the snow and red markers.
The hunters don't play fair with wolves, their hands don't tremble. after restricting our freedom with markers, they fire confidently, that's for sure!
A wolf cannot break with tradition. obviously, in our childhood, as blind cubs, we, wolf-cubs, sucked on a she-wolf and imbibed this: going beyond the markers is impossible! (or forbidden)
Our legs and our jaws are swift. Why, leader, answer, do we insist on rushing to meet the bullets and don't break through the lines?
A wolf shouldn't, he cannot, do otherwise! behold my time is up: the one, to whom I am fated, grinned and raised his gun.
But I stopped obeying, to the markers: the thirst for life is stronger, with great satisfaction i could hear the bewildered cries of men.
I run with all my might, my sinews bursting but today, unlike yesterday, when they've surrounded me, surrounded the hunters are left with nothing.
The hunt for wolves is on, the hunt is on. on silvery predators, mothers and cubs. the beaters shout, the hounds bark until they are near to retching. there is blood on the snow and red markers.