The High Jumper Песня Прыгуна в Высоту (1970) Vysotsky was a huge sports fan and wrote a couple of dozens songs about various sports (including speed-skating, boxing, marathon, American football, sky-diving, horse racing, and, of course, hockey and soccer). Some of them were serious, but mostly humorous. In many of them he had some sort of a twist, where the main character, in addition to the typical challenges of a given sport, faced some other obstacle to complicate his life even further. The High Jumper, with its athlete vs. coach standoff and the triumph of the former, has always been among my favorites. I translated it in the late 90s, and with time it changed very little. In the later version Vysotsky added a verse at the end about a cheating wife, but, in spite of its easy translation (While I was flying high at the top, there on somebody else she went down), I left it out, because (1) that wasnt the version I was used to and (2) it would have completely destroyed the triumphant feeling of the song. In August 2007, Polina went to Russia for a month, so I decided not to waste time and record my parts for this song in the UltraSky Studio of DJ Chkalov. This was a mistake, because, as it turned out, the room sound and the mike were totally different from other songs, and I have heard several not-so-flattering comments from both Polina and Eric about the quality of the recording. I even considered re-recording it, but Thad liked the groove there and insisted on sticking with it. Recording his guitar parts took longer than in any other song (a session and a half). We just kept hitting the wall, trying to create the part that would enhance the song. After we came up with the coachs sliding bass theme (in the 2nd and 3rd verses), it started flowing much better. This turned out to be one of Polinas favorites, so she ended up mixing it. Erics notable quote: Its a first time I hear a song that mentions a groin pull! BALLAD OF THE HIGH JUMPER I run, I push… I need a place to hide. I know again I failed to progress. Two meters twelve. I cannot beat this height! The bar gets in the way of my success! High jump is an interesting sport, Illustrating the pro sports the best. For a brief moment, you are on top, And then down you fall very fast. But from the forbidden tree I’ll eat the fruit. I’ll catch the glory bird by the tail tonight. Let everybody else jump off their left foot. But my jumping foot is the right, right, right. I run, I push, but it’s not getting better. Again into the same old bar I bumped. My coach called me up and said with anger: “You keep forgetting this ain’t no long jump!” “Your groin pull is making you flop! Stop this nonsense and jump like the rest! Otherwise, you will not reach the top But instead you’ll go down very fast!” But no matter how angry and upset I felt, Still to the coach I explained my plight: “They all, they all are jumping off their left, But I can only jump off my right, right, right.” The run, the push. Oh, that goddamn Canadian! He tops “two-ten” and laughs at me, when flies. And I just hit that old same “two-twelve” bar again, And the coach told me straight into my eyes That he will drown me in the lake! It would be better off in the end! So no one would make that mistake, Jumping off of the right foot again! But I would rather just commit suicide! I’d do something nasty to myself! But I will never switch from my wrong right To the right one, the left, left, left.” The fans began to boo, but I said “Oh well, “Let’s see who is the last to laugh today!” Here we go: the run, the push, and now “two-twelve” Is mine, and I have put this one away! So what if my groin made me flop? And so what if I am limping now? But, still I have been at the top, And nobody is pushing me down! So from the forbidden tree I snatched that fruit And caught the glory bird by the tail tonight. Let them all jump with their left foot. But my forever foot is the right, right, right! Разбег, толчок... И - стыдно подыматься: Во рту опилки, слезы из-под век,- На рубеже проклятом два двенадцать Мне планка преградила путь наверх. Я признаюсь вам, как на духу: Такова вся спортивная жизнь,- Лишь мгновение ты наверху - И стремительно падаешь вниз. Но съем плоды запретные с древа я, И за хвост подергаю славу я. У кого толчковая - левая, А у меня толчковая - правая! Разбег, толчок... Свидетели паденья Свистят и тянут за ноги ко дну. Мне тренер мой сказал без сожаленья: Да ты же, парень, прыгаешь в длину! У тебя - растяженье в паху; Прыгать с правой - дурацкий каприз,- Не удержишься ты наверху - Ты стремительно падаешь вниз. Но, задыхаясь словно от гнева я, Объяснил толково я: главное, Что у них толчковая - левая, А у меня толчковая - правая! Разбег, толчок... Мне не догнать канадца - Он мне в лицо смеется на лету! Я снова планку сбил на два двенадцать - И тренер мне сказал напрямоту, Что начальство в десятом ряду, И что мне прополощут мозги, Если враз, в сей же час не сойду Я с неправильной правой ноги. Но я лучше выпью зелье с отравою, Я над собой что-нибудь сделаю - Но свою неправую правую Я не сменю на правую левую! Трибуны дружно начали смеяться - Но пыл мой от насмешек не ослаб: Разбег, толчок, полет... И два двенадцать - Теперь уже мой пройденный этап! Пусть болит моя травма в паху, Пусть допрыгался до хромоты,- Но я все-таки был наверху И меня не спихнуть с высоты! Так что съел плоды запретные с древа я, И поймал за хвост славу я,- Пусть у них толчковая - левая, Но моя толчковая - правая! .
Posted on: Sat, 20 Sep 2014 01:05:32 +0000
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