Вариант 1 куплета:
Кто-то плод захотел, что неспел, что неспел,
Потрусили за ствол — он упал, он упал...
Вот вам песня о том, кто не спел, кто не спел
И, что голос имел, не узнал, не узнал.
Вариант 5 куплета:
Смешно, не правда ли, смешно! Смешно,
Что он шутил — недошутил,
Недораспробовал вино
И даже недопригубил.
Вариант 9 куплета:
Не докопался ни до дна, до дна,
Не докопался до глубин
И ту, которая ОДНА,
Недолюбил, недолюбил, недолюбил, недолюбил!
Вариант 10 куплета:
Смешно, не правда ли, смешно, смешно,
Что он спешил — недоспешил?
Осталось недорешено
Всё то, что он недорешил.
Вариант 12 куплета:
Но тогда ещё был снегопад, снегопад
И большие снежинки, и град
Он губами хватал на бегу.
Вариант 13 куплета:
Но к ней в серебряном ландо
Он не доехал и не до...
Вариант 16 куплета:
Смешно, не правда ли? Ну вот!
И вам смешно, и то же — мне.
Конь на скаку и птица влёт —
По чьей вине, по чьей вине, по чьей вине?
Английский перевод песни:
Someone spotted a fruit, still green,
Shook the tree, and it fell to the ground...
Here"s one who had no chance to sing,
Never knew that his voice had a sound.
Maybe something went wrong with his fate,
Maybe something with chance was amiss.
The guitar string had tightly been laid
On the frets with a flaw that he missed.
He started humbly with a "do",
But no one happened to adore
His first accord that fell so flat
A dog was barking, and a cat
Was chasing mice...
It"s so funny, is it not?
He had no chance to show his wit,
To taste his wine... He never got
To even take a nip of it.
Only started an argument, yet
He was timid and slow to begin,
And his soul, like droplets of sweat
From the pores, dripped from under his skin.
Only started a duel, again
So slowly, like never before,
Only grasping the rules of the game,
While the judge hadn"t opened the score.
To know all he"d always strive,
And yet he never quite arrived...
He had no chance to reach his peak,
To search below, to seek above,
And her, the only and unique —
To love enough...
It"s so funny, is it not?
He hurried, ran, but all in vain.
To solve in time — unsolved remain.
Not a letter of mine is a lie:
He was faithful to his pure style —
On the snow he was writing her rhyme...
But the snow would melt in a while.
It was snowing back then, and at least
He was free on the snow to pen,
And the large snowflakes with his lips
He was trying to catch as he ran.
To her, in a silver-gilt landau
He never made it before dawn.
He had no time to leap, to fly,
Never quite ran, the runaway.
His star sign — Taurus — was up high
Lapping the ice-cold Milky Way.
When seconds lack and time is tight...
One missing link, and all you got —
A halted flight!..
Seemed funny, didn"t it? Of course,
A bird in flight, a racing horse...
Translated by Eugenia Weinstein
http://www.interlog.com/~eugeniav/vysotsky.html
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