This day, on July 25, heart of the great poet, the bard, the actor and the Real Person - Vladimir Semenovich Vysotsky …ceased to fight exactly 29 years ago
"A uniform letter I don't lie -
It was a pure syllable the servant …"
He lived many different lives for the 42 years. Probably, God carried out it on life, having enclosed in his soul of feeling and feeling of those events at which there was no his body. Without Vysotsky's songs are inconceivable conquest of tops by rock-climbers and climbers, he wasn't at the front, but endured war, experienced it, looked at it eyes of veterans, his soul submitted the seas and oceans, choked in the submarine, interrupted flight highly in the sky, took the Olympic tops in different types of sports, escaped from hungry wolves and in a pack of wolves was torn for tags from beaters … Each time, having written a new cycle of verses, Vladimir Semenovich became one life more senior … He was in time more, than someone another, but to us always will be him a little …
"Poets aren't born incidentally,
They fly on the earth from height"
Vysotsky lived in time if permissibly so to speak. The freedom-loving revolutionary, with the aggravated sense of justice, courageous and desperate, he hurried to live. It was necessary to that time. It forbade. Pursued, didn't allow to leave border of the Union and to extend the ideas. It is necessary now. Vysotsky lodged in our hearts … His creativity always actually and is necessary. Vysotsky's salutary songs is "catechism" of the Slav and the Person. They show the true principles of life, force to think, reflect, take active positions and to live, instead of to exist.
"If, a way cutting through a fatherly sword,
You reeled up salty tears on a mustache,
If in fierce fight I tested that how much, -
Means, you in the childhood read the necessary books!
If meat from a knife
You didn't eat a piece,
If hands сложа
I observed haughtily,
And I didn't enter fight
With the rascal, with the executioner, -
Means, in life you were
At anything, at anything! "
As often from our acquiescence crimes are committed, lives break, chances are missed … Vysotsky fought for life, valued it, but didn't stint to store it in a secluded corner - it gave it to people. It created for us.
"I suffered with a back and the twisted neck, however wrote which - that from ballads.Very much I am irritated by language ignorance. I ask all the time: What? What? And it irritates people around. To me it is written difficult, and the angel goes down reluctantly, and the feeling that caught for a tail, doesn't come. But - I squeeze out all, and in gratitude for work the brain starts moving", - he wrote in the diary in Paris.
"Rest only dreams, I know, -
Prepare, keep and fight! -
There is a peace front line -
Trouble, both danger, and risk.
Therefore we hear quite often
Now, as then:
"You would go on reconnaissance with it?
Isn't present or yes? ""
What Vysotsky would do today, be he now in 2009 young and full of energy what he died? What would he tell us, what sang what would be its verdict to a ruling clique?
And he and so told everything and all sang. It made the will to generations:
I don't love a fatal outcome,
Never I am tired of life.
I don't love any season,
When I don't sing cheerful songs.
I don't love cold cynicism,
I don't believe in enthusiasm, and still -
When the stranger mine reads letters,
Looking to me through a shoulder.
I don't love, when half
Or when interrupted conversation.
I don't love when shoot at a back,
I also against shots in an emphasis.
I hate gossips in the form of versions,
Worms of a doubt, honors needle,
Or - when all the time against wool,
Or - when iron on glass.
I don't love confidence full,
Better let brakes will refuse!
Annoyingly to me that the word "honor" is forgotten,
And that are in honor wound for eyes.
When I see the broken wings -
There is no pity in me and with an ulterior motive.
I don't love violence and powerlessness,
Here only it is a pity for the crucified Christ.
I don't love myself when I am afraid,
Offensively for me when the innocent beat,
I don't love when to me climb in soul,
Especially, when in it spit.
I don't love arenas and arenas,
For them мильон change on ruble,
Let ahead big changes,
I never will fall in love with it.
Peru Vysotsky belongs about 700 poetic works where everyone will find that is close to it where there are answers to a set of questions. Poets don't leave irrevocably and as sang Talc, "They leave afar, but never die, Both in songs, and in the verses live". About Vysotsky many books of memoirs are written, he played in a set of movies, its songs still sound, his friends arrange concerts of his memory …
"I have many friends. God awarded me. One drink and to me don't give, others don't drink, but on me don't expostulate. All friends as like as two peas, - not because are similar, but because friends. And I without them will die, it is exact. Most of all am afraid of someone from them to disappoint. It is that and keeps all the time in a nerve both on a scene and in songs and in bragging we wash. " - Vysotskywritesin the fall of 1967.
"As if sweat droplets from a time, from - under skin the soul exuded", thirst of life not for an instant didn't leave it. He deserved life not in one era, and at all in one millennium. It is important to remember its precepts, to accustom the children to his creativity, to seek to live, as the Real Person. It it is worthy.