The meaning of the lyrics of the song "Nature reserve, preserve" (Zapovednik) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

Beasts run through the forest in packs -

Not for prey, not to drink their fill:

Day and night, they seek the gamekeepers

With a merry crowd and a thrill.

Beasts, forgetting their age-old fears,

With a firm belief that they can do it all,

Tearing open their fur like shirts,

Falling on their backs - take your pick, that's the call!

How many are there in the thickets,

How many are there in the bushes -

Roaring with roars,

Growling with snarls!

Fish swim upstream in schools -

Scoop them up, walk on them as you please!

So many willing to go straight to the table,

Straight to the plate - and into your teeth!

Fish is not meat - it is colder -

It longs for the net, the hook, the seine:

Fish want to warm up on the grill, -

The sea - just a puddle, water - not water, it's plain!

How many are there in the thickets,

How many are there in the bushes -

How many are crawling,

How many are flying!

Birds fly towards the shot -

Birds have become cunning with tricks:

To get those apples in their bellies,

Geese haven't eaten since sunrise.

Strong birds themselves on the hunt

Shout to their weaker brethren: "Get out of the way!" -

Life ends at its zenith, in mid-flight,

Falling down even without a single spray.

How many are there in the groves,

How many are there in the bushes -

Roaring with roars,

Growling with snarls!

How many are crawling,

How many are running,

How many are flying,

And how many are swimming!

The fur doesn't want to wear its own coat -

It rushes into the trap and the pen -

To clothe and warm people,

It's eager to get out of its skin.

Into your snares - think about it, people! -

Thousands upon hundreds in foreign currency are rushing,

Thousands upon thousands in our own money.

In the groves and bushes,

In the wilds and thickets,

How many are growling,

How many are roaring,

How many are grazing,

How many are teeming,

Rushing, bursting,

Viviparous,

Gray, ordinary,

In feathers so bright,

How many are there, predatory

And herbivorous,

Shedding their fur,

Changing their skin,

Bleating, barking,

Mammals,

How many are flying,

Running, crawling,

How many are non-drinking

In the groves and bushes

And non-smoking

In the wilds and thickets,

And creeping,

And mating,

And subordinate,

And leading,

Strong and weak,

Tearing and lying -

In the groves and bushes,

In the wilds and thickets!

Skins - undamaged, fish - alive,

Meat without shot - no need to break teeth -

Deftly, cleverly, simply, wisely,

Peacefully - why shoot at all?

Every gamekeeper gets a white apron!

In their hands - signs: "Don't shoot!", "Don't kill!"

All this together is called a sanctuary, -

There is only one commandment: do not kill!

But how many in the wilds,

Groves and thickets -

Guarding and watching,

Driving and chasing,

Moderately keen,

Badly shooting,

And pre-infarction,

Poisoning, barking,

Mounted and on foot,

And resting

Looking like forest spirits,

How many of them, knowing

And sophisticated,

Missing

The target, enraged,

How many are running,

Crawling, shouting,

In the wilds and thickets,

Groves and bushes -

How many are trembling,

Damaging skins,

How many are catching

On a whim,

How many are typical,

How many are omnivorous,

How many are there, predatory

And herbivorous,

And creeping,

And soaring,

In the groves and bushes,

In the wilds and thickets!

Бегают по лесу стаи зверей -

Не за добычей, не на водопой:

Денно и нощно они егерей

Ищут веселой толпой.

Звери, забыв вековечные страхи,

С твердою верой, что все по плечу,

Шкуры рванув на груди как рубахи,

Падают навзничь - бери не хочу!

Сколько их в кущах,

Сколько их в чащах -

Ревом ревущих,

Рыком рычащих!

Рыбы пошли косяком против волн -

Черпай руками, иди по ним вброд!

Сколько желающих прямо на стол,

Сразу на блюдо - и в рот!

Рыба не мясо - она хладнокровней -

В сеть норовит, на крючок, в невода:

Рыбы погреться хотят на жаровне, -

Море - по жабры, вода - не вода!

Сколько их в кущах,

Сколько их в чащах -

Сколько ползущих,

Сколько летящих!

Птица на дробь устремляет полет -

Птица на выдумки стала хитра:

Чтобы им яблоки всунуть в живот,

Гуси не ели с утра.

Сильная птица сама на охоте

Слабым собратьям кричит: "Сторонись!"-

Жизнь прекращает в зените, на взлете,

Даже без выстрела падая вниз.

Сколько их в рощах,

Сколько их в чащах -

Ревом ревущих,

Рыком рычащих!

Сколько ползущих

Сколько бегущих,

Сколько летящих,

И сколько плывущих!

Шкуры не хочет пушнина носить -

Так и стремится в капкан и в загон, -

Чтобы людей приодеть, утеплить,

Рвется из кожи вон.

В ваши силки - призадумайтесь, люди!-

Прут добровольно в отменных мехах

Тысячи сот в иностранной валюте,

Тысячи тысячей в наших деньгах.

В рощах и чащах,

В дебрях и кущах

Сколько рычащих,

Сколько ревущих,

Сколько пасущихся,

Сколько кишащих

Мечущих, рвущихся,

Живородящих,

Серых, обычных,

В перьях нарядных,

Сколько их, хищных

И травоядных,

Шерстью линяющих,

Шкуру меняющих,

Блеющих, лающих,

Млекопитающих,

Сколько летящих,

Бегущих, ползущих,

Сколько непьющих

В рощах и кущах

И некурящих

В дебрях и чащах,

И пресмыкающихся,

И парящих,

И подчиненных,

И руководящих,

Вещих и вящих,

Рвущих и врущих -

В рощах и кущах,

В дебрях и чащах!

Шкуры - не порчены, рыба - живьем,

Мясо без дроби - зубов не сломать, -

Ловко, продуманно, просто, с умом,

Мирно - зачем же стрелять!

Каждому егерю - белый передник!

В руки - таблички: "Не бей!", "Не губи!"

Все это вместе зовут - заповедник, -

Заповедь только одна: не убий!

Но сколько в дебрях,

Рощах и кущах -

И сторожащих,

И стерегущих,

И загоняющих,

В меру азартных,

Плохо стреляющих,

И предынфарктных,

Травящих, лающих,

Конных и пеших,

И отдыхающих

С внешностью леших,

Сколько их, знающих

И искушенных,

Не попадающих

В цель, разозленных,

Сколько бегущих,

Ползущих, орущих,

В дебрях и чащах,

Рощах и кущах -

Сколько дрожащих,

Портящих шкуры,

Сколько ловящих

На самодуры,

Сколько типичных,

Сколько всеядных,

Сколько их, хищных

И травоядных,

И пресмыкающихся,

И парящих,

В рощах и кущах,

В дебрях и чащах!

In the text "The Reserve" by Vladimir Vysotsky, the author raises the acute problem of the barbaric attitude of man towards nature, the destruction of the animal world for the sake of profit.

With bitter irony, the author describes the unnatural behavior of animals who, driven by fear of humans, go into the hands of hunters themselves. Beasts run towards danger, birds expose themselves to shots, fish jump into the nets themselves.

Vysotsky uses hyperbole and grotesque to emphasize the scale and absurdity of what is happening: animals "are eager to please" a person, "thousands of hundreds in foreign currency" are the price of their lives.

The poet denounces not only poachers but also the system that condones the destruction of nature: the " rangers" in his song do not protect animals, but rather participate in the hunt.

The finale of the song is an appeal to reason, to the creation of real reserves, where the only law will be "do not kill." However, here, too, the author does not lose his sarcasm, listing the " guarding", " chasing", " poorly shooting" workers of these very reserves.

"The Reserve" is a cry from the poet's soul, a warning that human greed and heartlessness can lead to irreversible consequences.