пятница, 16 октября 2015 г.

Memory of V.Vysotsky lives in our youth, thanks you're alive!! Basta - "Apples From The Garden of Eden".

I have never understood that type of music like rap but not now.
How interesting it can be when someone , someone very kind, smart, mild, with all his or her these good features can make you to change your mind about something in a good way or... someone opposite can take all you know and love and turn into dust...

So, thanks a lot to mr. Vasiliy M. Vakulénko aka Basta that he acquainted me with his way of russian rap, with his incredible, always full of sense lyrics, his amazing music, and especially thanks for that astonishing song with words wich were taken from Vladimir Vysotsky poem " Apples From The Garden Of Eden".

   I shall die
   for some day we all reach our last destination.
   And I'd rather be stabbed,
   than decease just like that in my bed.
   People pity the killed, pay them tribute
   and promise salvation...
   I'm not sure of the living,
   however, we cherish the dead.
   I shall fall on my face,
   turn to one side and then to the other,
   and on stolen old horses
   my soul will then gallop ahead.
   In the magical Gardens of Eden
   some apples I'll gather...
   It's too bad that the gardens are guarded, --
   they shoot in the head.
   When we got to the place
   what I saw there wasn't quite pleasant:
   just a wide open space,
   barren soil with no plants and no trees,
   and a huge iron gate
   towering over the boundless desert,
   and a crowd of convicts,
   thousands of them, -- on their knees.
   Now the wheel-horse got very excited.
   I calmed him by calling him "darling",
   and removed all the prickles on him,
   and smoothed out his mane.
   In the mean time, a grey-haired man
   fumbled, humbling and grumbling,
   with the bolt, but, alas,
   his attempts were vain.
   And the worn out people
   did not even utter a sound.
   They just rose from their knees to sit up,
   they were at a loss...
   Den of thieves, mob of gangsters
   came out to welcome the crowd!
   All returned to it its source,
   and a man was up there on the cross..
   Well, we all have some wishes,
   but was it so much that I wanted?
   All I need is my friends,
   and my wife, -- to shed tears when I'm dead.
   I shall gather some rose-colour apples for them --
   good and sorted...
   It's too bad that the gardens are guarded,
   they shoot in the head.
   I could tell who the grey-haired man really was
   from his tears:
   it was Peter, the holy apostle,
   while I was a stupid blockhead.
   There they were, the gardens,
   with pink frozen apples. Oh, cheers!..
   It's too bad that the gardens are guarded, --
   so I was shot dead.
   Then I urged on the horses,
   away from the horrible premises !
   And I rushed, -- I had oats for the horses
   and apples for you.
   Whip in hand, I was driving, like mad,
   on the brink of the precipice.
   You were waiting for me to return
   from the Paradise, too.