The meaning of the lyrics of the song "I didn't hit women until I was seventeen." (Ya jenschin ne bil do semnadcati let) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

I'd never hit a woman 'til I was seventeen -

At seventeen, I landed my first blow, -

And since then, I just can't be contained, you see:

Left and right,

I hand out "tips" to them, don't you know.

But how did it happen, that I, a man of thought,

An opponent of domestic abuse,

Could stoop so low - and at that very moment,

If you will,

Degrade myself with such brute force?

It all happened like this: I hadn't cheated on her

For three whole days, to be honest, -

What's more - I bought her perfume! -

French, my friends,

Cost me thirty-four seventeen.

But she had this salesman from the TSUM store -

His name was Slava Golubiev, you see, -

He had already gifted her those same perfumes -

Left and right

My harlot was flashing her smile.

I was young, and I had a fiery temper -

I laid out my grievances quick and clear -

Told her: "I strangled Slava just yesterday -

And today, my darling,

It's your turn to be choked, my dear!"

With trembling hands, I approached her closely,

My teeth chattering out "La Marseillaise," -

My tongue, disobedient, clung to my palate -

And right then and there,

I landed some solid blows on her face.

Since then, all the harlots are scared of me -

And it pains me so, I swear to God!

That's why - not a day goes by, you see -

I beat them hard and long, -

But you can't beat them all - there are just too many, by far.

Я женщин не бил до семнадцати лет -

В семнадцать ударил впервые, -

С тех пор на меня просто удержу нет:

Направо - налево

я им раздаю "чаевые".

Но как же случилось, что интеллигент,

Противник насилия в быте,

Так низко упал я - и в этот момент,

Ну если хотите,

себя оскорбил мордобитьем?

А было все так: я ей не изменил

За три дня ни разу, признаться, -

Да что говорить - я духи ей купил! -

Французские, братцы,

За тридцать четыре семнадцать.

Но был у нее продавец из "ТЭЖЕ" -

Его звали Голубев Слава, -

Он эти духи подарил ей уже, -

Налево-направо

моя улыбалась шалава.

Я был молодой и я вспыльчивый был -

Претензии выложил кратко -

Сказал ей: "Я Славку вчера удавил, -

Сегодня ж, касатка,

тебя удавлю для порядка!"

Я с дрожью в руках подошел к ней впритык,

Зубами стуча "Марсельезу", -

К гортани присох непослушный язык -

И справа, и слева

я ей основательно врезал.

С тех пор все шалавы боятся меня -

И это мне больно, ей-богу!

Поэтому я - не проходит и дня -

Бью больно и долго, -

но всех не побьешь - их ведь много.

The lyrics of Vladimir Vysotsky's song "I Didn't Hit Women Until Seventeen" are a bitter satire on male possessiveness, jealousy, and cruelty disguised as "love."

The protagonist of the song, the lyrical hero, not the author, is a man with an inflated ego who tries to justify his aggression. He begins with an almost boastful confession, emphasizing his past "restraint" ("didn't hit until seventeen"). However, cynicism already shows through in the first lines: "right and left I give them "tips"". Women are objects for him, who can be "taught" with the help of fists.

He then tries to evoke sympathy, presenting himself as an "intellectual" and an "opponent of violence." This contrast is a deliberate grotesque that exposes the hypocrisy of the hero. He "fell," "humiliated himself," but did not repent, but seeks justification.

The reason for the first outburst of anger was banal jealousy. The hero even tries to portray himself as a victim, because he "did not cheat," and even bought expensive perfume! The absurdity of the situation reaches its peak when it turns out that the perfume is a gift from another man. The hero does not try to understand the situation; he is driven by blind rage.

The murder of the "rival" is most likely a fiction, a bravado designed to intimidate the woman. He "strangles" her both physically and morally, depriving her of the right to vote, the opportunity to explain herself.

The ending of the song is a sad statement: the hero sees nothing wrong with his behavior, he intimidated the women, but this brings him only bitterness ("it hurts, by God!"). He is a hostage to his own cruelty, doomed to loneliness ("you can't beat them all - there are too many of them").

It is important to understand that the song does not justify violence, but makes fun of it, exposing the ugly essence of the tyrant hiding behind the mask of "nobility." Vysotsky masterfully uses sarcasm to make the listener think about the problem of domestic violence and the consequences of a distorted worldview.