Vladimir Vysotsky. Each and every thing...

Each and every thing

goes in its trodden trail:

Speak of what ye think —

and they’ll send you to jail,

Thieve — and also ye’ll

spend your time being locked,

Know a dangerous field —

and ye’ll be hanged or shot.

I believed in a short while the labor camp must be

Out of sight, out of sight,

But I found myself in this town blurred and dusty

With no life, with no life.

Crowds of people walk here but no person seems human,

Every look’s blank and dim.

I looked at the black faces appeared in the gloom and

Saw nor strangers nor kin.

Each and every thing

goes in its trodden trail:

Speak of what ye think —

and they’ll send you to jail,

Thieve — and also ye’ll

spend your time being locked,

Know a dangerous field —

and ye’ll be hanged or shot.

So what for did I censure my fate for its keenness?

What a sham, what a sham!

So what for did I yearn for so long for deliverance

In the camp, in the camp?

Crowds of people walk here but no person seems human,

Every look’s blank and dim.

I looked at the black faces appeared in the gloom and

Saw nor strangers nor kin.

Each and every thing

goes in its trodden trail:

Speak of what ye think —

and they’ll send you to jail,

Thieve — and also ye’ll

spend your time being locked,

Know a dangerous field —

and ye’ll be hanged or shot.

1964.