В.Высоцкий “Баллада о брошенном корабле“ - балерина/хореограф Маргарита Андреева

Современный номер “Корабль“ на песню Владимира Высоцкого “Баллада о брошенном корабле“, хореограф и исполнитель - балерина Маргарита Андреева (Лауреат международных конкурсов). г. Neoclassical choreography “Ship“ to a song by Vladimir Visotsky “Ballad about an abandoned ship“, choreographer and performer - ballerina Margarita Andreeva (Laureate of international competitions). 25/06/2020 “Ship“ (translation of the song into English): We were on familiar terms with the captain that day, The skipper and the youth were equal in talents; Straightening the ridges and tearing off the bandages, The sailors on the guys went wild. Doors of our brains were broke away from loops To the mirages of the shores To the bedspreads of the earth These promised, desired - And Columbus’s, and Magellan’s. Only I will never see Shores and lands - With the move of nine knots Ran completely aground! But all the fellows - Have a noble goal ... And eventually - I ran aground myself. And I was abandoned by my brothers, my fleet, - Those, who are more sensitive swallowed sea sprays. A great campaign continued without me, But, they waved sails at me. And swearing the weather and the occasion My stepsons altogether Were leaving me. Here are from boats - and “forget it”! - From Columbus and from Magellan. I drink sea-foam - the wave Doesn’t reach my mouth, And my sides are exposed from the decks to the bottom And my sides are dirty - Hide it or not, - So, enjoy seeing my ulcers And at my wounds! Here is a hole near my rib - this is a trace from the shot, Here are the scars from the ramming, and even You can see scars from hooks – it’s a pirate Broke my ridge in boarding fight. Keel - like old ragged Guitar Neck: It’s the coral reef ripped my stomack. Choking, rotting - it happens: And the salted gets rotten. The winds drink my blood And scurry through the cracks Right from the tank to the quarter deck, - The winds will finish me off: I stand under them From morning to morning, - Winds hammer nails Into my soul. And, like a wild fellow they throw me upside down, These winds are unexpected visitors, - Let them be drawn in my holds with wine Or else – may they move me from this dead place in anger! I believed in it Like a tracked beast, But not angry winds Now I need. My masts are like flabby arms Sails are like breasts of an old woman. There will be an eighth miracle - And good surf Will wash my body With life-giving water, God’s dew of the sea Will remove the taboo from me - Will blow my sails up Like veins on the forehead. I’ll catch up with mine people, catch up and forgive them Should I remember forgotten armada. And I will let my crew on my board back: I bear no grudge against the crew. But, it seems, there are no more Space for me in the ranks. Bad joking, corvette, Make room - I will open it! How so - I’m your brother, I got away from the trouble ... More field, frigate, - There is enough water for all of us! What did you get to: Means that - should I leave?! If I was aground - There is no further way for me?! Open the rows Yet we are ships, There is enough water for all of us, There is enough land for all of us, This promised, desired And Columbus’s , and Magellan’s!