The meaning of the lyrics of the song "About the Vacha River and my fellow traveler, Valya." (Pro rechku Vachu i poputchicu Valyu) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

I can’t feel my legs beneath me,

And the earth seems to sway…

For three months now I’ve been begging,

Since they wrote me off completely

From the whaling ship that day.

Well, and since I am a beggar,

Not a Party man, not a Jew,

I sleep my nights upon the stairways,

Where the warmth comes from the flue.

That’s life! Live and warm yourself, then –

To hell with bullets and the noose!

I drink sometimes, till I’m drowning:

My buddies come back from the ocean,

And we paint the town, let loose!

A ruble isn’t money, a ruble is a note,

To be thrifty is a sin.

Ah, my soul, a sailor’s shirt you are –

With forty stripes, and seven holes within!

But the Lord sent down some luck to me –

He’d earned a little dough! –

He saw how bitterly I cried, and said:

“Forget about your woes!

Hurry up, the season’s here!”

“What is this Vacha?” –

I asked a fellow bum -

He was going to Vacha, weeping –

Came back laughing on the run.

Vacha is a river with a shoal

In the depths of Siberian mine,

Vacha is a house with a bed,

There they work hard as a team –

Lots of gold, you’ll find!

Like a hired mule, you see,

I don’t gripe, I don’t shoot up…

Got my ticket, off I fly to Vacha,

Once I’m there – I’ll whoop it up!

There is no gold that’s more precious –

People know, they can tell!

Well, one way or another,

In Vacha I made myself

One hundred seventeen workdays, well!

They did the math, made their deductions –

For the food, this and that, you know –

But four thousand they gave me

For my work, there you go!

I stuffed it all into my pockets

Where not even a ruble spent the night

And I left for hotter climates,

Where the cafes and the restaurants invite –

To forget what it’s like to be a blight.

I’m drinking – such amazing chacha here! –

To the bum who gave advice:

To Vacha I was going, shedding a tear –

I’m coming back, laughing, and feeling nice!

The conductor, on the verge of a spree,

Twirled about, stuck in a stoop,

The waitresses were doing the same, you see,

And at the first small station we came to,

A woman boarded our coupe.

To you she might look just like a nag,

To me she’s just my type, I vow!

To Vacha I was going, feeling like a drag –

I’m coming back, happy, somehow!

This and that, and whatnot, went the chatter,

Once she found out about the stash…

Word by word, from Valya’s smatter,

Hundreds across the table did scatter –

And with Valya off we dash!

With her things didn’t go as planned –

But I’ll heal this wound as well!

To Vacha I was going, feeling unmanned –

I’m coming back, laughing like hell!

Six days passed – seemed like a flash –

The sea – there it is – at hand.

Whatever I had – all gone in a crash –

The conductor gives me a look quite rash

And doesn’t run for brandy as planned.

My last ruble in Sochi I fritter away –

Sent a telegram on a whim:

Send some money, I’ll work it off someday,

I laughed it all away, what can I say.

Where are you, where are you, my scattered lot –

Curse all you want, shout to the sky!

Yours I am again, whether you like it or not –

My Magadan, my dear, my forgot,

My unforgettable bums, good-bye!

Past my nose they carry the chacha,

Past my mouth, the cherry plum…

To Vacha I’m going, crying “Ah ha!”,

Laughing at myself, tra-la-la!

Под собою ног не чую -

И качается земля...

Третий месяц я бичую,

Так как списан подчистую

С китобоя-корабля.

Ну а так как я бичую,

Беспартийный, не еврей,-

Я на лестницах ночую,

Где тепло от батарей.

Это жизнь! Живи и грейся -

Хрен вам, пуля и петля!

Пью, бывает, хоть залейся:

Кореша приходят с рейса -

И гуляют "от рубля"!

Рупь - не деньги, рупь - бумажка,

Экономить - тяжкий грех.

Ах, душа моя тельняшка -

В сорок полос, семь прорех!

Но послал господь удачу -

Заработал свечку он! -

Увидав, как горько плачу,

Он сказал: "Валяй на Вачу!

Торопись, пока сезон!"

Что такое эта Вача -

Разузнал я у бича,-

Он на Вачу ехал плача -

Возвращался хохоча.

Вача - это речка с мелью

Во глубине сибирских руд,

Вача - это дом с постелью,

Там стараются артелью,-

Много золота берут!

Как вербованный ишачу -

Не ханыжу, не "торчу"...

Взял билет,- лечу на Вачу,

Прилечу - похохочу!

Нету золота богаче -

Люди знают, им видней!

В общем, так или иначе,

Заработал я на Ваче

Сто семнадцать трудодней.

Подсчитали, отобрали,-

За еду, туда-сюда,-

Но четыре тыщи дали

Под расчет - вот это да!

Рассовал я их в карманы,

Где и рупь не ночевал,

И уехал в жарки страны,

Где кафе и рестораны -

Позабыть, как бичевал.

Выпью - там такая чача! -

За советчика бича:

Я на Вачу ехал плача -

Возвращаюсь хохоча!

...Проводник в преддверье пьянки

Извертелся на пупе,

То же и официантки,

А на первом полустанке

Села женщина в купе.

Может, вам она - как кляча,

Мне - так просто в самый раз!

Я на Вачу ехал плача -

Возвращаюсь веселясь!

То да се, да трали-вали,-

Как узнала про рубли...

Слово по слову, у Вали

Сотни по столу шныряли -

С Валей вместе и сошли.

С нею вышла незадача,-

Я и это залечу!

Я на Вачу ехал плача,

Возвращаюсь - хохочу!..

Суток шесть - как просквозило,-

Море - вот оно - стоит.

У меня что было - сплыло,-

Проводник воротит рыло

И за водкой не бежит.

Рупь последний в Сочи трачу -

Телеграмму накатал:

Шлите денег - отбатрачу,

Я их все прохохотал.

Где вы, где вы, рассыпные,-

Хоть ругайся, хоть кричи!

Снова ваш я, дорогие,-

Магаданские, родные,

Незабвенные бичи!

Мимо носа носат чачу,

Мимо рота - алычу...

Я на Вачу еду, плачу,

Над собою хохочу!

In the song "About the Vacha River and the Fellow Traveler Valya", Vladimir Vysotsky tells the story of a man who found himself at the bottom of society. The lyrical hero was fired from his job ("written off cleanly from the whaling ship"), homeless ("I spend the night on the stairs") and, apparently, abuses alcohol. In this hopeless situation, he meets another disadvantaged person - a "bum" who advises him to go to work on the Vacha River.

Vacha in the song symbolizes hard work, but at the same time hope for salvation, an opportunity to break out of poverty. The hero follows the advice, goes to Vacha and actually earns decent money for those times.

However, having received the money, the hero quickly forgets about the hardships of the recent past. He spends his earnings on entertainment, alcohol and a casual acquaintance Valya, who, however, quickly robs him. In the final, the hero finds himself at the bottom again, but this time he no longer feels the same hopelessness. He feels bitter irony over himself and the absurdity of the situation, he is ready to go to Vacha again to start all over again.