Vladimir Vysotsky: Songs: Trans. by Zhenia Sakirski

Vysotsky's Lyrics: Translation by Zhenia Sakirski

All the rights are protected. Contact the author: accidentalentry@yahoo.com

Russian title: Gorizont
The ground has been swept, and you may want to curse
The race that I am in, and make this knowledge public
That I must be the first to reach the end of earth
Horizon is my finish line and target

Conditions of this bet were not approved by all
And nobody supported this with yearning
So here are the rules: I have to reach my goal
By driving down this road and never turning

The meter-s racking up the miles
The lanes are narrow, just like isles
And I keep seeing shadows in the back
A crow? Or someone dressed in black

I realize the way they plan to blind my site
I can in fact predict how I will soon be cheated
I almost hear their scoff when they delay my flight 
And I can see their roadblock-s completed

The gas is always floored, and at the present speed
A spec of dust has impact of a bullet
My wrists are cramping up; I got a nosebleed
I need to pass before they block it solid!

The meter-s racking up the miles
I travel down the narrow isles
I know that they are tightening the bolts
I should be faster; otherwise I fold

The pavement starts to melt; the tread begins to smoke
The end is almost near - my stomach growls often
I use my bear chest to tear through the block 
I-m still alive, so take away the coffin

The ones who set this up, and made me take this bet
Did not intend to make this contest fair
This gamble just like wine is making me forget
But when the curves are sharp I am prepared

The meter-s racking up the miles
I cut across the lanes and the isles
Just calm the losers down, please advise them
When I am first to get to the horizon

The end of earth, it seems, remains rather far
I-m past the roadblock; yet still alive and moving
But there-s more to come, they-re shooting at the car
And there-s something still in need of proving

The money that they bet was not what brought me in
But not to miss this chance that has arisen.
To find out where the earth is ?gonna¦ end
And how does it converge with the horizon 

The meter-s racking up the miles
The snipers missed in each of their trials
But what is this?! My breaks refuse control
I cannot stop, I miss my finish goal!

Rate the translation above:
[Excellent] 5   4   3   2   1 [Awful]
Average rating for this translation: 4.40 (out of 5)

Copyright © Vladimir Vysotsky: The official site, 1995-2005 Comments? Questions?Rambler's Top100