The meaning of the lyrics of the song "A book with a naughty title." (Knijka s neprilichnyim nazvanem) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

You were on my palm,

Like a beautiful book

In a rough dust jacket.

I was in love like a boy,

With a quiet, secret tremor.

I flipped through our little novel,

With an indecent title.

There were vows and tears,

All the same.

Mostly it was prose,

And poetry was more rare.

Your passionate caresses

And all the other means...

It's scary, like in a fairy tale

Of very early childhood.

I secretly hoped

That you were not messed with,

But you, like in a reading room,

Were taken by so many.

They told me about it,

You may not believe me,

Under a huge secret,

Forty-nine people.

I would read to my wedding!

I pray to Christ our God,

To flip through it faster,

To the end with an epilogue.

I won't wait for the moment,

When I'm late,

I'll hand over the book,

With an indecent title.

То была не интрижка

Ты была на ладошке

Как прекрасная книжка

В грубой суперобложке

Я влюблен был как мальчик

С тихим трепетом тайным

Я листал наш романчик

С неприличным названьем

Были клятвы и слезы

Все одни и все те же

В основном была проза

А стихи были реже

Твои бурные ласки

И все прочие средства

Это страшно, как в сказке

Очень раннего детства

Я надеялся втайне

Что тебя не трепали

Но тебя, как в читальне

Очень многие брали

Мне сказали об этом

Можешь мне и не верить

Под огромным секретом

Человек сорок девять

Прочитать бы мне свадьбу!

Я молю Христом – богом

Чтоб скорей пролистать бы

Мне конец с эпилогом

Не дождуся я мига

Когда я с опозданьем

Сдам с рук на руки книгу

С неприличным названьем

Vladimir Vysotsky's song "A Book with an Obscene Title" uses the metaphor of a book to describe the lyrical hero's love affair.

The title itself sets the tone for an ironic and candid conversation about love that initially promised nothing serious ("it wasn't a fling"). The image of the beloved as "a beautiful book in a rough cover" creates a sense of superficial, purely physical attraction. The rough cover hides the fragility and value of the content, suggesting that the hero didn't see the true essence of his beloved, focusing on the external.

Gradually, the hero realizes that his feelings are stronger than he thought: he falls in love "like a boy," the relationship becomes a "novel" for him, albeit "with an obscene title." However, this novel turns out to be banal and predictable, consisting "mainly... of prose." Oaths, tears, "passionate caresses" - all this has already been in countless stories before them.

The climax comes with the bitter truth: "you, like in a library, were taken by so many." This metaphor finally shatters the hero's illusions. The love that he considered unique turns out to be a well-read book, a passed stage for many others.

In the final part, the hero, unwilling to accept the disappointment, dreams of "quickly flipping through" their story to the end, "handing over the book with an obscene title." He seeks to quickly forget the painful experience and start a new chapter in his life.