The meaning of the lyrics of the song "Let's not cry over spilt milk..." (Davayte posle draki...) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

After the fight's done, let's wave our fists,

For it's not just beer and crayfish we consumed.

Deadlines were set, battles we rehearsed,

My comrades, prophets we were groomed to be.

Now it all seems strange, sounds rather foolish:

In five neighboring lands our bodies lay.

Lieutenants' marble – a plywood monument –

Coronation of talents, legends' fray.

For our fates (personal), for our glory (shared),

For that perfect line we blindly sought,

For keeping both song and verse unimpaired,

Let us drink, the dead, to the living's health!

Давайте после драки

Помашем кулаками,

Не только пиво-раки

Мы ели и лакали,

Нет, назначались сроки,

Готовились бои,

Готовились в пророки

Товарищи мои.

Сейчас все это странно,

Звучит все это глупо.

В пяти соседних странах

Зарыты наши трупы.

И мрамор лейтенантов -

Фанерный монумент -

Венчанье тех талантов,

Развязка тех легенд.

За наши судьбы (личные),

За нашу славу (общую),

За ту строку отличную,

Что мы искали ощупью,

За то, что не испортили

Ни песню мы, ни стих,

Давайте выпьем, мертвые,

За здравие живых!

Vladimir Vysotsky's poem "Let's After the Fight..." is filled with bitterness and disillusionment from the consequences of a senseless struggle. The lyrical hero addresses his comrades-in-arms, with whom they once "prepared for battles," made plans, and dreamed of a great future.

The first stanza ironically describes their former confidence and excitement: "deadlines were set," "prepared to be prophets." The image of "beer and crayfish" emphasizes the transience of their victories, which seemed significant to them at the time.

The second stanza sharply contrasts with the first. The romance of struggle is replaced by a cruel reality: "Our corpses are buried in five neighboring countries." "Marble of lieutenants" and "plywood monument" symbolize futile death and oblivion. "The wedding of those talents" and "the denouement of those legends" sound like a bitter mockery of unrealized potential and wasted lives.

The third stanza is a peculiar toast, full of tragedy. The hero proposes a toast "to our (personal) fates, to our (common) glory," to the idea that they could not realize. The final lines "Let's drink, the dead, to the health of the living!" sound like a call to the living to remember the victims and not repeat the mistakes of the past.