The meaning of the lyrics of the song "Someone has spied a fruit, unripe still..." (Kto-to vyismotrel plod, chto nespel...) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

Someone spied a fruit, unripe, unripe,

They shook the tree - it fell with a swipe, a swipe.

This is a song about one who never ripened, never ripened,

Whose voice remained unknown, undiscovered, undiscovered.

Perhaps fate played tricks, played tricks,

And luck turned its back, quick, quick,

A taut string on frets, on frets,

Laid down with an unseen defect.

He started timidly with "do,"

But couldn't finish, couldn't do...

His chord didn't ring true,

And inspired no one, it's true.

The dog barked, the cat

Hunted mice, just like that.

Funny, isn't it, funny?...

He joked but didn't finish, honey,

Didn't savor the wine's embrace,

Nor even sin's sweet disgrace.

He merely started a debate, a debate,

Uncertain and not in haste, not in haste.

Like beads of sweat from every gate, every gate,

From under his skin, his soul did emanate, emanate.

He just began a duel on the mat, on the mat,

Barely, just barely, he had begun, begun.

Only glanced at the game, where it sat,

And the judge hadn't tallied one.

He wanted to know everything, through and through,

But he didn't reach it, couldn't do...

Neither the hunch nor the depth, the depth,

He didn't dig to the depths beneath,

And the one, the only one he'd bequeath,

He didn't love her fully, didn't breathe.

Funny, isn't it, funny?

That he rushed, but not fully.

Left unresolved, you see,

All that he didn't decree.

Not a single letter's a lie, a lie,

He was a servant of pure prose, no lie,

And wrote her poems on the snow, oh my...

Sadly, snow melts, you know, oh my.

But then there was snowfall, snowfall,

And freedom to write on the wall,

And big snowflakes, and hail,

He caught them with his lips, no fail.

But to her, in a silver landau,

He didn't make it, couldn't do...

The runner didn't run, the fugitive too, too,

Didn't fly, didn't gallop through.

And his star sign, Taurus true,

Lapped the cold Milky Way, anew.

Funny, isn't it, funny,

When seconds are a scarcity,

The missing link, you see,

And the shortfall, constantly.

Funny, isn't it? Well then,

You find it funny, even I...

Horse at a gallop, bird in flight again -

By whose fault, whose fault, whose fault does it lie?

Кто-то высмотрел плод, что неспел, неспел.

Потрусили за ствол - он упал, упал.

Вот вам песня о том, кто не спел, не спел

И что голос имел - не узнал, не узнал.

Может, были с судьбой нелады, нелады

И со случаем плохи дела, дела,

А тугая струна на лады, на лады

С незаметным изъяном легла.

Он начал робко с ноты "до",

Но не допел ее, не до...

Не дозвучал его аккорд

И никого не вдохновил.

Собака лаяла, а кот

Мышей ловил.

Смешно, не правда ли, смешно?..

А он шутил - не дошутил,

Не дораспробовал вино,

И даже не допригубил.

Он пока лишь затеивал спор, спор

Неуверенно и не спеша, не спеша.

Словно капельки пота из пор, из пор,

Из-под кожи сочилась душа, душа.

Только начал дуэль на ковре, на ковре,

Еле-еле, едва приступил, приступил.

Лишь чуть-чуть осмотрелся в игре,

И судья еще счет не открыл.

Он знать хотел все от и до,

Но не добрался он, не до...

Ни до догадки, ни до дна, до дна,

Не докопался до глубин

И ту, которая одна,

Не долюбил, не долюбил.

Смешно, не правда ли, смешно?

Что он спешил - не доспешил.

Осталось недорешено

Все то, что он не дорешил.

Ни единою буквой не лгу, не лгу.

Он был чистого слога слуга, слуга,

И писал ей стихи на снегу, на снегу...

К сожалению, тают снега, снега.

Но тогда еще был снегопад, снегопад

И свобода писать на снегу,

И большие снежинки, и град,

Он губами хватал на бегу.

Но к ней в серебряном ландо

Он не добралсяи не до...

Не добежал бегун - беглец, беглец,

Не долетел, не доскакал.

А звездный знак его - Телец

Холодный Млечный путь лакал.

Смешно, не правда ли, смешно,

Когда секунд недостает,

Недостающее звено,

И недолет, и недолет.

Смешно, не правда ли? Ну вот,

И вам смешно, и даже мне...

Конь на скаку и птица влет -

По чьей вине, по чьей вине, по чьей вине?..

Vladimir Vysotsky's song "Someone Spotted a Fruit, Unripe..." uses metaphor to tell a tragic story of a person whose life was cut short before they could reach their full potential. The song's protagonist is compared to an unripe fruit, plucked before it had a chance to mature.

The lyrics are filled with imagery of incompleteness: an unfinished song, a joke untold, wine undrunk, an argument unresolved, love unconfessed, a race unrun. All of this symbolizes unrealized opportunities, cut-short dreams, and journeys stopped midway.

The phrase "funny, isn't it, funny?" rings with bitter irony. The author seems to be asking: is this really it? Can life be so fragile, ending abruptly and leaving so much unfulfilled?

The snow, upon which the protagonist writes poems to his beloved, serves as a metaphor for the fleeting nature of time and the fragility of life. The snow melts, the poems disappear, and so does the protagonist, leaving behind a sense of loss and unfulfilled potential.