By the edge, near the precipice, at the very limit, I am beating at my horses with my arm, a whiplash in it. I'm not getting enough air - drinking wind, the fog imbibing, And I scent with deadly rapture: I am dying, I am dying! Just a little slower, horses, little slower now! Do not listen to the taut whip, it is wrong! But my horses are uncontrollable I can't live to the end, I can't finish my song. I will let horses drink - the couplet I will sing For a little bit more I will stand on the brink... I will vanish - like a feather by the wind I will be blown, In the morning they will drag me in the sleigh through the snow, O my horses, walk some slower, show a bit of moderation Just a little bit, prolong my way to final destination! Just a little slower, horses, little slower now! Do not listen to the taut whip, it is wrong! But my horses are uncontrollable I can't live to the end, I can't finish my song. I will let horses drink - the couplet I will sing For a little bit more I will stand on the brink... We've arrived: nobody comes late here to greet the Lord of Heaven - Then, why do the angels sing with voices evil, voices heavy? Or the bell would shake from weeping, weeping gently, weeping deeply, Or I'm shouting to the horses that they do not run so quickly? Just a little slower, horses, little slower now! I pray to you don't gallop along! But my horses are uncontrollable I can't live to the end, I can't finish my song. I will let horses drink - the couplet I will sing For a little bit more I will stand on the brink... By Vladimir Vysotsky Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
