The meaning of the lyrics of the song "The Merry Undertaker" (Vesyolaya pokoynickaya) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

Whether you travel by train or by car,

Or stroll along, warmed by a sip of wine, -

With the abundance of machines today,

It's hard to make it through life in one piece.

Here's an accident: in Zamoskvorechye,

Three were taking one to his grave, you see, -

All, including the driver, were injured,

Only the one in the coffin was free.

Hired mourners wailed through their teeth with a groan,

The deacon couldn't even hit the high note,

The brass band played loudly out of tune, -

Only the one in the coffin didn't miss a beat.

His former boss - a secret crook, no less -

Kissed his forehead, then spat with disdain,

Everyone paid their respects, - while the deceased

Didn't kiss a single soul, it's plain.

But thunder roared - nothing could be done,

Nature's forces don't care for our pleas, -

All ran for cover, under roofs they spun, -

Only the deceased didn't budge, at ease.

What's rain to him - it won't diminish his state, -

While the living - their resilience isn't the same.

Oh, those deceased, once people like us, we constate, -

Are a brave lot, unlike us, it's a shame.

No matter how fast you try to outrun,

The sticky label catches you, like a mark on your brow, -

And nothing poses a threat, not one,

Only when you're lying in a coffin, somehow.

Be it a private one or a communal space, -

The housing problem doesn't touch the deceased, -

Look at him, the departed, what grace, -

Doesn't require any fuss, at peace.

In the realm of shadows, in that strict society, -

There are no dangers, no worries to be had, -

While we, the living, walk under God's decree, -

Only the one in the coffin is truly glad.

I hear the reproach: "He's praising the dead!"

No, I'm just angry with fate's cruel design:

One day, we'll all be silenced, our last breath shed, -

Except for those resting in peace, divine.

Едешь ли в поезде, в автомобиле,

Или гуляешь, хлебнувши винца, -

При современном машинном обилье

Трудно по жизни пройти до конца.

Вот вам авария: в Замоскворечье

Трое везли хоронить одного, -

Все, и шофер, получили увечья,

Только который в гробу - ничего.

Бабы по найму рыдали сквозь зубы,

Дьякон - и тот верхней ноты не брал,

Громко фальшивили медные трубы, -

Только который в гробу - не соврал.

Бывший начальник - и тайный разбойник -

В лоб лобызал и брезгливо плевал,

Все приложились, - а скромный покойник

Так никого и не поцеловал.

Но грянул гром - ничего не попишешь,

Силам природы на речи плевать, -

Все побежали под плиты и крыши, -

Только покойник не стал убегать.

Что ему дождь - от него не убудет, -

Вот у живущих - закалка не та.

Ну, а покойники, бывшие люди, -

Смелые люди и нам не чета.

Как ни спеши, тебя опережает

Клейкий ярлык, как отметка на лбу, -

А ничего тебе не угрожает,

Только когда ты в дубовом гробу.

Можно в отдельный, а можно и в общий -

Мертвых квартирный вопрос не берет, -

Вот молодец этот самый - усопший -

Вовсе не требует лишних хлопот.

В царстве теней - в этом обществе строгом -

Нет ни опасностей, нет ни тревог, -

Ну, а у нас - все мы ходим под богом,

Только которым в гробу - ничего.

Слышу упрек: "Он покойников славит!"

Нет, я в обиде на злую судьбу:

Всех нас когда-нибудь кто-то задавит, -

За исключением тех, кто в гробу.

In the poem "The Merry Funeral," Vladimir Vysotsky, with his characteristic irony and grotesquerie, unfolds a reflection on life and death, using the motif of a funeral.

The meaning of the poem is multifaceted:

Juxtaposition of life and death: Life is presented as dangerous, full of absurdity and falsehood. People, chasing something, risk dying from the "abundance of modern machines." Death, on the contrary, is depicted as a state of peace, liberation from worldly vanity. The deceased is not afraid of the rain, does not participate in the hypocrisy of the funeral, and knows no anxieties or dangers.

Satire on social phenomena: Vysotsky ridicules the hypocrisy and falsehood that reign in society. At the funeral, "hired women" are crying, the musicians are playing out of tune, the boss is hypocritically mourning the subordinate, whom he may not have even noticed during his lifetime.

Philosophical subtext: Behind the irony and satire lies a deep philosophical question about the meaning of life and the inevitability of death. The author seems to be saying: we are all mortal, and only death equalizes everyone, removing social masks and conventions.

"Black humor": The use of humor in the context of death may seem inappropriate, but it is this technique that allows Vysotsky to touch upon serious topics without falling into pathos or tragedy.