День на редкость... -пер. В. Высоцкого

by Vladimir Vysotsky

The day is rare - it's warm, but no melting, -
May be the Nature now has its own resourse, -
And today... as it was earlier frequently,
I'm again starting the lyrical course.

My heart is beating, as if I'm deadly
Drunken, as if I'm full to my throat:
That's because of that I had six coffees,
Turkish coffees - so heart's beating hard!

Such a doze no one could advise you -
But - no one would advise you to love! -
I have one friend, who is sure to prove you,
That to live in this world is for nothing.

No, of course, you can live, live eventful:
And to drink, suffer, love, being jealousy, -
Not to trail along life being wretched -
But to beathe it, to drink it, to sing!

Otherwise, you would have only one blink -
And you'll have only the play "into box".
You'll turn sad, and depressed, caught with pity,
That is time to the labdanum turn!

But you need, when you get all the total
Of your life - that to line the result:
"I have lived not so bad, it is obvious,
I was drinking, and loving, and suffered!"

No, the Nature is more rich, abundant!
What's the day! What's? - the poetry? - nonsense!
... However, I've written this other way,
I wished not. I'm not - the true poet...