The last poem of Vladimir Vysotsky

and below the ice, and on top - I toil between:
Punch whether il pierce the top of the bottom?
Of course, emerge and not lose hope,
And there - for business, in anticipation of visas.

Ice on me - broke down and burst!
I am pure and simple, even though I am not from the plow,
I'll be back to you, as the ships of the song,
All of remembering even the old poems.

I have less than half a century - more than forty,
I'm alive, twelve years old, and the Lord keep you.
I have something to sing, appeared before the Almighty,
I have something to justify himself in front of him.

Author: Vladimir Vysotsky



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