Vladimir Vysotsky, poet and bard, is known for his sharp, heart-rending poems about life, war, and human passions. However, behind the brutal mask of a hero lies a subtle lyricist, capable of conveying the full range of emotions associated with love for a woman. His poems about this are not saccharine confessions, but complex, sometimes tragic stories of attraction, jealousy, pain, and hope. In them, love is presented as a test, a struggle, an integral part of life itself, full of contradictions and unexpected twists. This collection reveals the various facets of this feeling in Vysotsky's work.
Content
Collapse
She doesn't have to
She doesn't have to, you don't have to tell her to, Make your heart beat faster, Make your gaze warmer. She doesn't have to, she has nothing to endure, And nothing to forgive, if you suddenly don't meet. She doesn't have to, you shouldn't call her, And wait for you to return, From the distant, dirty darkness. She doesn't have to, she just needs to live, And she doesn't need you, and you know that.
Horses are picky
The horses are finicky, their heads bowed down. They cannot be raised, nor straightened, their strength is exhausted. But I still gallop, gallop, gallop, forward, into the utter distance. And I see how you, no doubt, are meeting another sorrow.
Ballad of Struggle
Even though I saw only you on the gallop, But in my heart, as on the deck, A star of love lit up. And even though the struggle is merciless, And life is like a ring where pain and fear reign, I will fight mercilessly To hold in my hands. Not glory, not victory, But only your quiet gaze, And the faith that somewhere, Happiness will be glad to welcome us.
Letter to my beloved
I write to you, but I don't know why words, why ink? You understand anyway, that my heart is filled with pain. I have seen many beautiful faces, and heard speeches like honey. But only you, the one and only, have left a mark on my soul. Forgive me for my rudeness, for my silence, for the fact that I am rarely near. My love is like an eternal wandering, but you are my home, my quiet garden.
Conversation with a Star
I talk to her at night, with a cold, distant star. She is silent, but it means so much to me that she sometimes looks down from above. I tell her about you, about how my heart burns. She probably knows more than anyone, than I, a miser. She doesn't judge, doesn't scold, She only always shines in the darkness. And I hope that someday you will be near, like a star.
Lost Address
A lost address, a forgotten number, And only the glimmer of your eyes remains in my memory. I'm like a ship tossed by a storm, Wandering in search, not knowing where to dock. I remember the warmth of your palms, And the whisper of your lips, and the scent of roses in the night. But time, merciless as the waves, washes away everything that was between us.
Tango on the Roof
Tango on the roof, under the moonlit rain, Two silhouettes, intertwined into one. You are like fire, I am like ash and smoke, And our tango is the last movie. We whirl in a whirlwind of passions and losses, Forgetting the world, the pain, the lies. But I know that the door will come, Which our souls can no longer open together.
Her portrait
Not with a brush, not with words, but with my heart I paint your image, my beloved, in my memory. In it is the bitterness of separation and sacred hope, and the glimmer of a smile in the silence of the night. You are like a riddle that I eternally try to unravel, but to no avail. In your eyes is the cosmos, boundless and eternal, and I am drowning in it, irrevocably, of course.
Forgotten bouquet
A forgotten bouquet on an old chest of drawers, Faded roses, like a memory of us. They hold the secret of our nature, And the whispers of confessions, and the bitterness now. I remember giving you these flowers, With hope for happiness, for long days. But life is a dance where dreams rule, And often they shatter, like crystal in dust.
Meeting at the station
A meeting at the station, a brief glance, And my heart began to beat like a bird in my chest. I thought that time had erased everything, But here you are, and I walk again. To you, through the crowd, through the noise and melancholy, To the warmth of your hands, to your smile. And even if this meeting is only for a moment, It will light my path, like a ray of fire.
Her silence
Her silence is louder than any words, It contains pain and resentment and hidden passion. I stand before her like a criminal, unshackled, not knowing what to say. I feel my world crumbling around me, Hope fading, dreams melting. And in this silence lies my eternal sound, And eternal pain, and eternal emptiness.
The Last Waltz
The last waltz, and the music faded, And the last lights in the hall went out. We whirled in the dance, as if we were whirling, But the time has come, and we cannot escape. From the past, from pain, from lies, From tenderness, from passion, from sweet dreams. We are like two ghosts, in the twilight of the soul, Saying goodbye silently, without unnecessary threats.
Fragments of Love
Shards of love, like broken glass, wound my heart, giving me no peace. I collect them again and again, trying to glue them back together, but it's all in vain, I'm afraid. After all, the past cannot be returned, cannot be forgotten, it will forever remain in my soul. And I will love you forever, even if you are no longer mine.
Her eyes
In her eyes is a bottomless ocean, In which I drown, finding no bottom. In them is joy and sadness, and bright deception, And a mystery that I alone cannot unravel. I look into them, as into a mirror of the soul, And see myself, with all my sins. But in these eyes I find silence, And faith that love is not a game.
Tenderness
Tenderness is like a fragile flower in the wind, It must be protected, cherished, treasured. Tenderness is what I found in you, And what I am ready to love and give forever. It is like a ray of sunshine on a dark day, It is like a breath of fresh air. Tenderness is what makes us human, And what fills life with meaning and luxury.