I Will Let My Horses Drink! I Will Finish My Verse!

I know, he totally looks like Javier Bardem, ya?

Way back in the olden days of yore (known as "the 80s") a slightly silly movie made it's way to American theaters. It was called White Nights. I was a celebration of tap, ballet, modern, and all things hep and kool at that time. It was (sigh) also a play on words. The white knights were the practically worshipped ballet dancer Baryshnikov and the beloved tap master Gregory Hines. It featured many stirring dance performances, laden with great gobs of Cold War rhetoric--when is a man freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee--and, while bleak and not a little heavy handed, still managed to be very, very entertaining.

One of the faves, of course, was Baryshnikov's dance in the empty theater to Visotsky's "Fastidious Horses" (or just "Horses"), whilst gorgeous Helen Mirren (who ages more beautifully than any mortal has a right to) sobs hysterically at his freedom of expression or whatever.

When I started taking Russian classes we were introduced to the Visotsky cannon to some degree, even getting low-grade mixed tapes of bad recordings just like real Soviet comrades. As Americanskis, we were McLovin it. I never did attempt to translate or understand this song, though my complete lack of understanding tells you more about my, err, "knowledge base" than my interest in the song. I did know there was some sort of drinking taking place since the bit where he screams "YA konyeh napayoooo" meant something about "I" and "drink" so I figured it was about the notorious Russian alcoholism. I was McTranslatin' it.

Anyway, today was one of those days where the song tumbled into my head like a sweet, dripping honeycomb of whirring bees. It always makes me happy in its rumbling angst-y yowl, and all the movie-related subtext of repression, quiet rage, and the inability to effect change makes it a rocking good anthem for a pissy day. SO, here's a fab version.



The funny part was looking up the lyrics, since they don't match at all. This is a perfect example of the difference between a nuanced (though bloodless) translation and a slightly more awkward attempt (though packed with more grrrr and hooting). Guess which is which...

Along the ledge of the abyss, on the very edge of it,
I lash my horses out, urging them on...
Running out of air, I drink the wind, I swallow the fog,
I feel with a damned ecstasy that I am done for, done for!

Slow down a bit, my horses, slow down!
Don’t listen to the tight whip!
But I got some fastidious horses -
I didn’t finish living, now my song will be cut short.

I will let my horses drink, I will finish my verse -
For a moment, at least, I will stand on the edge...

When I am gone - the hurricane will sweep me, a snowflake off the palm,
And horses will pull my sleigh at full speed on the snow that morning,
Pace yourselves, my horses,
Lengthen the way to my last shelter, even for a little bit!

Slow down, my horses, slow down!
The whip is not your overseer!
But I got some fastidious horses -
I didn’t finish living, now my song will be cut short.

I will let my horses drink, I will finish my verse -
For a moment, at least, I will stand on the edge...

We’ve come in time: there is no such thing as being late for God, -
Why do then those angels sing so viciously?
Or is it a bluebell that grew numb from sobbing?
Or is it me, crying for the horses not to carry the sleigh so fast?!

Slow down a bit, my horses, slow down!
I beg you, do not tear away at such mad pace!
But I got some fastidious horses -
I didn’t live enough, at least I should finish my song!

I will let my horses drink, I will finish my verse -
For a moment, at least, I will stand on the edge...

**********

By the cliff, along the precipice, right over deadly ground,
With the whip, I strike my steeds; strike them hard to urge them forward.
I am getting short on air, gulp the haze, drink the wind, yet
With a fatal rapture, sensing: I am done for, I am done for!

Slow down a bit my horses, slow down, please!
Don't you listen to my stinging thong!
But the horses -- just my luck! -- are so hard to please!
Neither lived I so long, nor will I finish this song...
I will let horses drink, I'll complete this refrain,
Just a little bit more I will stay on the brink...

I will vanish from the Earth, swept by a storm like fluffy feather;
At a gallop, in the morning by the snow they'll drag me over
Can't you please prolong my journey to the end of my tether?
Can't you ease your dash, my horses, carry on a little slower?

Slow down a bit my horses, slow down, please!
Don't take orders from my whip and thong!
But the horses -- just my luck! -- are so hard to please!
Neither lived I so long, nor will I finish this song...
I will let horses drink, I'll complete this refrain,
Just a little bit more I will stay on the brink...

Just on time - one can't be late arriving at God's quarters!
Why do the angels over there sound like some nasty mortals?
Or, perhaps, it's just a sleigh-bell that's gone mad and burst out sobbing,
Or it's me shouting at my steeds to slow down my sled from dashing.

Slow down a bit my horses, slow down, please!
I am begging you, don't rush along!
But the horses -- just my luck! -- are so hard to please!
Since I haven't lived long, let me finish this song...
I will let horses drink, I'll complete this refrain,
Just a little bit more I will stay on the brink...

And if you really have to see the Baryshnikov bit, here it is, below. This version of the song seems less rage-y, though, so whatever. My favorite sampling can never be reproduced as it happened on a cheery Saturday afternoon here in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, as I walked down the street to the drug store. I saw a 30-something gent fussily waxing his shiny black car (it was truly BLACK: Black paint, black windows, black headlights) with this song blasting from the stereo. A culturally sensitive Russian? Or a White Nights superfan -- who can say? But it was awesome and it reminded me of a song I'd almost forgotten.