The meaning of the lyrics of the song "Shackled Chauffeurs" (Okovannyie schoferyi) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

On the road - quickly! Or - lie down in the coffin.

Yes! Our choices aren't vast at all.

We're doomed to a life slow and small -

For certainty, in chains we stand in thrall.

And some in haste believed the lie -

Believed blindly, without reason or why.

But is it life - when bound by chains you lie?

Is it a choice - when freedom's passed you by?

Treacherous the mercy we were shown -

Like poison from a madman's hand unknown:

Death from our own - behind a stone it's sown,

And from behind - death lurks, but from our own.

The soul is frozen, the body numb and weak,

Silent we stand, like pawns upon a bleak,

And through the windshield, grimy, stained, and meek,

A crooked smirk observes, its pleasure to bespeak.

If only we could break these chains we bear -

Then we would tear and rend with teeth laid bare

The one who dared to shackle us and snare,

In fetters bound, to a life beyond compare.

Do we still hope for something more, you say?

Or is this goal beyond our reach today?

Why do we pound at heaven's gates, I pray,

With knuckles raw against these bars of clay?

They offered us a way out of the fight,

But at a price, concealed from the light:

We're sentenced to a life, both long and bright,

Through guilt and shame, through treachery and blight!

But is such life worth such a heavy cost?!

The road's not done! Be calm, we've not yet lost -

Away from that great war, at any rate, engrossed,

A worthy death is possible, though hopes are tossed.

It's early yet to liken us to slime -

We'll build no nests in rot, consumed by time!

We won't die lingering deaths, devoid of rhyme -

A faithful death will bring us back to life sublime!

В дорогу - живо! Или - в гроб ложись.

Да! Выбор небогатый перед нами.

Нас обрекли на медленную жизнь -

Мы к ней для верности прикованы цепями.

А кое-кто поверил второпях -

Поверил без оглядки, бестолково.

Но разве это жизнь - когда в цепях?

Но разве это выбор - если скован?

Коварна нам оказанная милость -

Как зелье полоумных ворожих:

Смерть от своих - за камнем притаилась,

И сзади - тоже смерть, но от чужих.

Душа застыла, тело затекло,

И мы молчим, как подставные пешки,

А в лобовое грязное стекло

Глядит и скалится позор кривой усмешке.

И если бы оковы разломать -

Тогда бы мы и горло перегрызли

Тому, кто догадался приковать

Нас узами цепей к хваленой жизни.

Неужто мы надеемся на что-то?

А может быть, нам цель не по зубам?

Зачем стучимся в райские ворота

Костяшками по кованным скобам?

Нам предложили выход из войны,

Но вот какую заложили цену:

Мы к долгой жизни приговорены

Через вину, через позор, через измену!

Но стоит ли и жизнь такой цены?!

Дорога не окончена! Спокойно! -

И в стороне от той, большой, войны

Еще возможно умереть достойно.

И рано нас равнять с болотной слизью -

Мы гнезд себе на гнили не совьем!

Мы не умрем мучительною жизнью -

Мы лучше верной смертью оживем!

The poem "Chained Drivers" by Vladimir Vysotsky explores the theme of moral choice under total lack of freedom. The lyrical hero, addressing "us" - most likely like-minded people, contemporaries who find themselves in a similar situation, speaks about life under the yoke of a system that deprives a person of the right to choose and have his own voice.

The very first lines set the tone for the entire work: "Get on the road - quickly! Or lie down in your grave." This is a false dilemma, an externally imposed choice without alternatives. Life "on the road," following a designated path, turns out to be tantamount to death – "slow," devoid of meaning and dignity. The image of "chains" and "shackles" is multifaceted: these are external restrictions imposed by the regime, and internal fears that prevent the hero from breathing freely.

The "insidious mercy" shown to some is an illusion of freedom that hides the same dependence and fear. Death lies in wait everywhere: "behind the stone," "from behind" – there is no safe place in a world dominated by lies and violence. The hero's soul is "frozen," he has turned into a faceless pawn in someone else's game. The "crooked grin" staring from the "windshield" is an image of the mockery of fate, the gloating of the system that destroys a human being.

However, the fire of resistance is still glimmering in the hero. He is ready to "tear the throat" of the one who "chained" him, who deprived him of the right to free choice. He doubts, beats "with his knuckles against the forged shackles" of paradise, seeking a way out of the vicious circle.

The "way out of war" offered by the system is a path of shame and betrayal of oneself. The true choice is to maintain dignity and fidelity to one's ideals, even if it means death. "We will not die a painful life - We will be resurrected by a faithful death!" - these lines sound like a hymn to freedom, the triumph of the spirit over matter. The hero chooses death, but a worthy death that grants him true life – life in the memory of descendants, in history.