The meaning of the lyrics of the song "It just happened that the men left." (Tak sluchilos mujchinyi uschli) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

It happened - the men went away

Abandoned the crops before their time

They are no longer visible from the windows

Dissolved in the road dust

Grains flow out of the ear

These tears of unharvested fields

And cold winds swiftly

Flowed out of the cracks

We are waiting for you - hurry your horses!

Good hour, good hour, good hour!

Let the tailwinds not beat, but caress your backs

And then come back soon!

The willows are crying for you

And without your smiles, the mountain ash fade and wither

We live in high towers

There is no entrance to these buildings for anyone

Loneliness and expectation

Settled in the houses instead of you

Lost both freshness and charm

The whiteness of unworn shirts

Even old songs are boring

And stuck in the teeth

We are waiting for you - hurry your horses!

Good hour, good hour, good hour!

Let the tailwinds not beat, but caress your backs

And then come back soon!

The willows are crying for you

And without your smiles, the mountain ash fade and wither

Everything aches with a single pain

And it sounds more incessant every day

The eternal anguish of lamentations

Echoes of ancient prayers

We will meet you both on foot and on horseback

Tired, incomplete - any

If only not the emptiness of the funeral

No news in them

We are waiting for you - hurry your horses!

Good hour, good hour, good hour!

Let the tailwinds not beat, but caress your backs

And then come back soon!

The willows are crying for you

And without your smiles, the mountain ash fade and wither

Так случилось — мужчины ушли

Побросали посевы до срока

Вот их больше не видно из окон

Растворились в дорожной пыли

Вытекают из колоса зерна

Эти слезы несжатых полей

И холодные ветры проворно

Потекли из щелей

Мы вас ждем — торопите коней!

В добрый час, в добрый час, в добрый час!

Пусть попутные ветры не бьют, а ласкают вам спины

А потом возвращайтесь скорей!

Ивы плачут по вас

И без ваших улыбок бледнеют и сохнут рябины

Мы в высоких живем теремах

Входа нет никому в эти зданья

Одиночество и ожиданье

Вместо вас поселилось в домах

Потеряла и свежесть и прелесть

Белизна не надетых рубах

Даже старые песни приелись

И навязли в зубах

Мы вас ждем — торопите коней!

В добрый час, в добрый час, в добрый час!

Пусть попутные ветры не бьют, а ласкают вам спины

А потом возвращайтесь скорей!

Ивы плачут по вас

И без ваших улыбок бледнеют и сохнут рябины

Все единою болью болит

И звучит с каждым днем непрестанней

Вековечный надрыв причитаний

Отголоском старинных молитв

Мы вас встретим и пеших, и конных

Утомленных, нецелых, — любых

Лишь бы не пустота похоронных

Ни известия в них

Мы вас ждем — торопите коней!

В добрый час, в добрый час, в добрый час!

Пусть попутные ветры не бьют, а ласкают вам спины

А потом возвращайтесь скорей!

Ивы плачут по вас

И без ваших улыбок бледнеют и сохнут рябины

Vladimir Vysotsky's song "It so happened – the men went away" is filled with deep sadness and anxiety. It paints a picture of an empty world where women are left alone, languishing in anticipation of the men who have gone on unknown roads.

The text is permeated with images of abandonment and desolation: "they abandoned the crops before their time," "tears of unharvested fields," "cold winds swiftly flowed from the cracks." The feeling of melancholy is intensified by the description of empty houses where "loneliness and expectation have settled instead of you." The world without men loses its colors, "the whiteness of unworn shirts has lost its freshness and charm."

Despite the anxiety and fear, hope breaks through the lines. Women are waiting for their men, urging them to hurry: "We are waiting for you – hurry your horses!". They are ready to accept them in any way – "tired, broken" – if only they would return.

The song ends with a heart-wrenching cry of the soul: "Everything aches with a single pain, and every day the eternal anguish of lamentation sounds more and more incessantly." This cry is a reflection of the eternal lot of women – to wait and believe, to pray and hope.