The meaning of the lyrics of the song "Fires" (Pojaryi) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

The fires above the country rise higher, hotter, merrier,

Their reflections danced - two stomps, three claps,

But then Fate and Time mounted their steeds,

And off they went - a gallop, under bullets' hail -

The world was thrown into a chill

By this wild ride.

The stray bullets are wicked, blind, and senseless,

And we flew at full speed - they flew right behind.

The horses' hooves pounded, and hot horseshoes

Flew into the dust for the luck of those who'd find them later.

The reins were agile, like eels,

And hair and thoughts were tangled on the run,

But the wind blew - straightening our curls,

And untangling the convolutions of our minds.

Neither flight from fire, nor fear of pursuit mattered,

Time spurred on, and Fortune smiled,

And the riders' sabers crossed with a sunbeam, -

The rider - a poet, the steed - Pegasus.

The fire dimmed, then died down,

But the race was just igniting.

The world had never seen such a gait, -

Hooves beat a drumroll, drops of water chimed.

The bloodthirsty, blind bullet-fool

Suddenly saw clearly, grew wiser, and hit the mark more often.

Who would outdo whom - the excitement grew,

Who would be faster - no laggards in this race,

And the wind blew, stripping flesh from bones,

Bringing coolness to the skeleton.

Fortune lies ahead, and healing for the sick,

For the first time, Time gallops straight - not in a circle,

The promised "tomorrow" will be bitter and intoxicating.

It's easy to ride, the enemy is in sight,

And so is the friend - what a blessing!

Fate flies on the wing!

They tricked gullible Death -

She hesitated, forgot to swing her scythe -

The bullets were already falling behind, no longer keeping up...

Will we be able to wash ourselves not with blood, but with dew?

The wind sang, ever sadder and fainter,

Time was wounded through and through, Fate suffered too.

The wind, and the horses, and the bodies and souls

Of the slain they carried away.

Пожары над страной все выше, жарче, веселей,

Их отблески плясали - два притопа, три прихлопа,

Но вот Судьба и Время пересели на коней,

А там - в галоп, под пули в лоб, -

И мир ударило в озноб

От этого галопа.

Шальные пули злы, слепы и бестолковы,

А мы летели вскачь - они за нами влет.

Расковывались кони, и горячие подковы

Летели в пыль на счастье тем, кто их потом найдет.

Увертливы поводья, словно угри,

И спутаны и волосы и мысли на бегу,

А ветер дул - и расправлял нам кудри,

И расплетал извилины в мозгу.

Ни бегство от огня, ни страх погони ни при чем,

А Время подскакало, и Фортуна улыбалась,

И сабли седоков скрестились с солнечным лучом, -

Седок - поэт, а конь - пегас.

Пожар померк, потом погас,

А скачка разгоралась.

Еще не видел свет подобного аллюра, -

Копыта били дробь, трезвонила капель.

Помешанная на крови слепая пуля-дура

Прозрела, поумнела вдруг и чаще била в цель.

И кто кого - азартней перепляса,

И кто скорее - в этой скачке опоздавших нет,

А ветер дул, с костей сдувая мясо

И радуя прохладою скелет.

Удача впереди и исцеление больным,

Впервые скачет Время напрямую - не по кругу,

Обещанное "завтра" будет горьким и хмельным.

Легко скакать, врага видать,

И друга тоже - благодать!

Судьба летит по лугу!

Доверчивую Смерть вкруг пальца обернули -

Замешкалась она, забыв махнуть косой, -

Уже не догоняли нас и отставали пули...

Удастся ли умыться нам не кровью, а росой?

Пел ветер все печальнее и глуше,

Навылет Время ранено, досталось и Судьбе.

Ветра и кони, и тела и души

Убитых выносили на себе.

In Vladimir Vysotsky's poem "Fires," the uncontrollable run of time and fate is metaphorically depicted, carrying the lyrical hero through dangers and trials.

"Fires" here are a symbol of turbulent changes, chaos, and destruction that have gripped the world ("Fires above the country are higher, hotter, merrier"). Time and Fate, riding horses, rush the hero at a gallop towards the unknown. "Random bullets" is a metaphor for accidents, dangers, and blows of fate that are impossible to hide from.

Despite the fear and risk, one can feel the hero's thirst for life and desire for freedom ("Horseshoes were coming off, and hot horseshoes flew into the dust..."). The wind, confusing and unraveling thoughts, symbolizes the unpredictability and variability of life.

Gradually, the fire gives way to a race – a metaphor for life's journey, full of excitement, struggle, and overcoming. The image of the poet-rider on the horse Pegasus emphasizes the creative principle, allowing one to break out of the ordinary and look at the world from a height.

The race becomes more and more swift, more dangerous, and the stakes are higher ("... more gambling, and whoever is faster – there are no latecomers in this race"). Time no longer moves in a circle, it flies directly to the inevitable future – "bitter and intoxicating."

The finale of the poem is imbued with tragedy. The wind carries the souls of the dead, reminding us of the price we have to pay for the frantic pace of life. The open ending – "Will we be able to wash ourselves not with blood, but with dew?" – makes us think about the fragility of human life and the value of peaceful existence.