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Охота на волков

Vladimir Semënovič Vysotskij / Владимир Семёнович Высоцкий
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Versione inglese di Viacheslav Chetin
A HUNT ON WOLVES

I strain myself out of all my might and sinew,
But today, just like yesterday,
I am close rounded.
They've cornered me, for God's sake!
They are keeping after, joyfully driving me at all speeds!

The rifles behind the fir-trees are keeping themselves busy -
There, the hunters hide in the shadows -
The wolves are frolicking on the snow,
Turned into a live target.

The hunt is on! The hunt on wolves,
On gray beasts, full-grown and puppies!
The beaters shout and the hounds bark until they're retching,
There is blood on snow and red spots of flags.

It's not a fair game they are playing,
But no hand trembles, -
Our freedom blocked by flags,
They strike safely, for sure!

A wolf can't fail his customs, -
Long time ago-blind puppies,
We, little ones, sucked our mother,
And sucked in: don't go outside of flags!

The hunt is on! The hunt on wolves,
On gray beasts, full-grown and puppies!
The beaters shout and the hounds bark until they're retching,
There is blood on snow and red spots of flags.

Our feet and jaws are swift,
Tell us, our leader, - why do we then
Rush onward, into the shots,
And not through the restraint?!

A wolf can not, must not do otherwise.
Now my time has ended:
The one I am intended for,
Smiled and raised his rifle.

The hunt is on! The hunt on wolves,
On gray beasts, full-grown and puppies!
The beaters shout and the hounds bark until they're retching,
There is blood on snow and red spots of flags.

I came out of the obedience trance -
Beyond the flags - my thirst for life is stronger,
Behind me I heard triumphantly
Their bewildered cries.

I strain myself out of all my might and sinew,
But today, not like yesterday,
I was close rounded.
They've cornered me, for God's sake!
But the hunters were left with nothing!

The hunt is on! The hunt on wolves,
On gray beasts, full-grown and puppies!
The beaters shout and the hounds bark until they're retching,
There is blood on snow and red spots of flags.
Sinews out, I am shooting on forward,
But today is the same as before:
I am cornered again, I am cornered,
Being merrily chased to a score.
Double-barrels are smacking behind firs,
In the shadows, wherein marksmen hide.
On the snow wolves are tumbling and writhing,
Having turned into moving bulls-eyes.

Refrain:
It is wolf hunting in full swing, it is wolf hunting,
A hunt for grizzled raptors, both mature and pups!
The cries of baiters and, like vomit, hounds’ barking.
Against the snow white, scarlet spots of blood and flags.

Forest rangers don’t play it as equals.
Nonetheless, their hands are exact:
Having fenced in with flags our freedom,
They shoot confidently, for a fact.
Wolf packs cannot infringe their habits.
Seems that being new born, still blind cubs,
Sucking mother-wolf, we, trusting puppies,
Have sucked in with the milk ‘Not on flags!’

Refrain.

Legs and canines of ours are smartly.
Leader, give me the answer then, why
Being baited, we rush towards marksmen,
While the banned being not even tried.
None of us can behave otherwise, so
Here is likely the end of my life.
And the marksman, who I am destined for,
Smirks self-confident, raising his rifle.

Refrain.

I’m exceeding the bounds of obeying –
Thirst of life demands over the flags!
And I joyfully hear behind me
Only humans’ loud flabbergast cries.
Sinews out, I am shooting on forward,
Only this time is not like before!
Being cornered again, being cornered,
Yet the hunters are now left at naught!

Refrain


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