The meaning of the lyrics of the song "Paradise apples" (Rayskie yabloki) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

I will die someday - we all die eventually,

If only I could choose how - stabbed in the back, not on my own:

The murdered are pitied, prayed for, and promised paradise,

I won't speak for the living, but the dead we cherish and prize.

I'll fall face down in the mud, collapse gracefully on my side,

My soul will gallop off on stolen steeds, fueled by pride.

In wondrous gardens of paradise, I'll gather pale pink apples,

But the gardens are guarded, and they shoot dead center, no fables.

They galloped up - I looked - but paradise was not in sight:

Just barren wasteland, endless nothingness, devoid of light.

And amidst this void, cast-iron gates rose high,

And a vast throng - five thousand strong - knelt down, about to die.

How he roared, that beast! But I tamed him with a gentle word,

And barely pulled the reins from his mouth, braided his mane, unheard.

A gray-haired old man fumbled with the bolt for far too long -

He groaned and grumbled, couldn't open it, and shuffled along.

And the weary souls didn't utter a single moan,

They just shifted from their numb knees to sit on the cold stone.

"We've got it good here, lads, they welcome us with a raspberry chime!"

The cycle repeats, and above it all, He hangs, crucified by time.

Grant us blessings, oh Lord, and did I ever ask for much?

Just friends by my side, and a wife to mourn me in her clutch.

And I, in return, would gather pale pink apples for them, you see,

But the gardens are guarded, and they shoot dead center, woe is me.

I recognized the old man by the tears on his wrinkled face:

Saint Peter himself, an apostle, and I, a fool, a disgrace.

There they were, the gardens, with their frozen apples in rows.

But the gardens are guarded - and I was shot, a fatal dose.

So I drove my horses away from this rotten, frozen place,

The horses craved oats, but I too had the bit in my face.

Along the cliff's edge, whip in hand, above the chasm deep,

I'll bring you a bosom full of apples: you waited even from eternal sleep!

Я когда-то умру - мы когда-то всегда умираем, -

Как бы так угадать, чтоб не сам - чтобы в спину ножом:

Убиенных щадят, отпевают и балуют раем, -

Не скажу про живых, а покойников мы бережем.

В грязь ударю лицом, завалюсь покрасивее набок,

И ударит душа на ворованных клячах в галоп.

В дивных райских садах наберу бледно-розовых яблок.

Жаль, сады сторожат и стреляют без промаха в лоб.

Прискакали - гляжу - пред очами не райское что-то:

Неродящий пустырь и сплошное ничто - беспредел.

И среди ничего возвышались литые ворота,

И огромный этап - тысяч пять - на коленях сидел.

Как ржанет коренной! Я смирил его ласковым словом,

Да репьи из мочал еле выдрал и гриву заплел.

Седовласый старик слишком долго возился с засовом -

И кряхтел и ворчал, и не смог отворить - и ушел.

И измученный люд не издал ни единого стона,

Лишь на корточки вдруг с онемевших колен пересел.

Здесь малина, братва, - нас встречают малиновым звоном!

Все вернулось на круг, и распятый над кругом висел.

Всем нам блага подай, да и много ли требовал я благ?

Мне - чтоб были друзья, да жена - чтобы пала на гроб, -

Ну а я уж для них наберу бледно-розовых яблок.

Жаль, сады сторожат и стреляют без промаха в лоб.

Я узнал старика по слезам на щеках его дряблых:

Это Петр Святой - он апостол, а я - остолоп.

Вот и кущи-сады, в коих прорва мороженных яблок.

Но сады сторожат - и убит я без промаха в лоб.

И погнал я коней прочь от мест этих гнилых и зяблых, -

Кони просят овсу, но и я закусил удила.

Вдоль обрыва с кнутом по-над пропастью пазуху яблок

Для тебя привезу: ты меня и из рая ждала!

Vladimir Vysotsky's poem "Paradise Apples" is a profound reflection on life, death, justice, and love. The lyrical hero, sensing his imminent demise, desires not to die a natural death but to be killed. He believes that murderers are "spared, sung over, and pampered with paradise," while in life, one faces hardship and injustice. The image of "paradise" is not used in a literal, religious sense, but as a metaphor for a better lot in life, unattainable while alive.

The hero finds himself in a kind of "paradise," which turns out to be illusory. The desolate landscape, "cast-iron gates," and "vast stage" create an oppressive atmosphere of hopelessness. The image of the "crimson ringing" turns out to be a deception, and the one "crucified above the circle" points to the suffering and cycle of injustice that continue even after death.

Despite his disappointment, the hero retains the desire to care for his loved ones. He strives to bring "pale pink apples" to his beloved even from this "paradise," risking his life. This act demonstrates the power of love, transcending the boundaries of life and death.

The poem's ending is tragic. The hero recognizes the "gray-haired old man" as the apostle Peter and is killed trying to get "frozen apples." The image of "frozen apples" emphasizes the unattainability of happiness and the deceptiveness of hope. Despite the tragic ending, the poem leaves a sense of strength of spirit and love that confront the cruelty and injustice of the world.