The meaning of the lyrics of the song "We don't say "shtormy," we say "shtorma."" (Myi govorim ne schtormyi, a schtorma) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

We don't say "storms," but "storma" -

Words come out short and savory:

"Winds" - not "winds" - drive us mad,

Uprooting masts from the decks.

We have vetoed superstitions -

We honor the instinct of compasses and bows.

The elastic, taut muscles of the wind

Stretch the skin of the sails.

On the bowl of the starry - genuine - Scales

Gray Neptune decides our fate,

And a pack of dogs, hungry Hounds,

Whining desperately, chasing us to the Bowl.

We are the ghost of a legendary corvette,

Rocking in the constellation of Libra.

And as if the streams of wind have sharpened -

And tear the skin of the sails.

On course - the shadow of another ship,

He sailed - and did not slow down in storms.

Look - there's a loop dangling

On the yard, longing for the hanged!

Providence treated him harshly:

Only eternal calm - and the clock stopped -

The tailwind, as if the devil had beguiled -

He no longer finds sails.

We think we hear someone's call -

Mysterious clear signals...

Not the thirst for glory, races and prizes

Throws us on the crests and on the rocks.

To experience what I have never known -

To drink space with your eyes, mouth and skin!

Who sees only water in the ocean -

He does not notice mountains on land.

Sing, hurricane, evil songs in our ears,

Penetrate under the skull and into thoughts,

Pour star rain, instilling in our souls

Eternal sickness with earth and sea!

Мы говорим не "штормы", а "шторма" -

Слова выходят коротки и смачны:

"Ветра" - не "ветры" - сводят нас с ума,

Из палуб выкорчевывая мачты.

Мы на приметы наложили вето -

Мы чтим чутье компасов и носов.

Упругие тугие мышцы ветра

Натягивают кожу парусов.

На чаше звездных - подлинных - Весов

Седой Нептун судьбу решает нашу,

И стая псов, голодных Гончих псов,

Надсадно воя, гонит нас на Чашу.

Мы - призрак легендарного корвета,

Качаемся в созвездии Весов.

И словно заострились струи ветра -

И вспарывают кожу парусов.

По курсу - тень другого корабля,

Он шел - и в штормы хода не снижая.

Глядите - вон болтается петля

На рее, по повешенным скучая!

С ним Провиденье поступило круто:

Лишь вечный штиль - и прерван ход часов, -

Попутный ветер словно бес попутал -

Он больше не находит парусов.

Нам кажется, мы слышим чей-то зов -

Таинственные четкие сигналы...

Не жажда славы, гонок и призов

Бросает нас на гребни и на скалы.

Изведать то, чего не ведал сроду, -

Глазами, ртом и кожей пить простор!.

Кто в океане видит только воду -

Тот на земле не замечает гор.

Пой, ураган, нам злые песни в уши,

Под череп проникай и в мысли лезь,

Лей звездный дождь, вселяя в наши души

Землей и морем вечную болезнь!

In Vladimir Vysotsky's poem "We Don't Say 'Storms,' We Say 'Storma'," the metaphor of seafaring conveys a thirst for life, a striving for freedom and knowledge. The lyrical hero is not just a sailor battling the elements, but a man challenging fate, seeking his own path, fraught with danger and adventure.

The poem's raw, almost tangible imagery ("words... short and tasty," "the wind's taut and resilient muscles") conveys the power of the elements and the hero's strength of spirit. Rejecting superstition ("We've put a veto on omens"), he relies on intuition, experience, and a zest for life.

The image of "gray-haired Neptune" deciding the hero's fate on the "scales of starry... Libra" emphasizes the inevitability of trials and reminds us of the frailty of human existence. The "hounds" are a symbol of the hardships and dangers that pursue a person, from which there is no escape.

The encounter with the ghost ship, which perished in pursuit of a tailwind, becomes a warning. Death is presented as frozen time, an eternal calm, where "the wind, as if the devil had confused it - no longer finds the sails."

But the hero is not afraid of danger. He hears "mysterious... signals" calling him to the unknown. It is a thirst for knowledge, to "drink space with [his] eyes, mouth, and skin," to see more than just "water" in the ocean and not to notice "mountains" on land.

The final lines are a hymn to life in all its fullness, with its storms and calms. The "starry rain," the "eternal sickness of earth and sea" are metaphors for a passion for life, a willingness to accept it with joy and pain, light and darkness.