Баллада о любви, Высоцкий \ Ballad of Love, Vysotski (English subs)

(edited) When the Deluge was over, and its current Had to back down to former shore extents, From hissing foam of a receding torrent, Love quietly crawled out upon dry land And strewed in air before the term was over, In fact, the term’s a bag of bags of sand... Besides, odd folk, there are suchlike around, Are breathing rashly in this stuff full out, Expecting no reward, disdaining failures, And, unsuspecting, thinking they but breathe, They all a sudden fall into the rhythm Of tremulous inhaling and exhaling... Only there’s a feeling that a ship Has to stick around too long adrift, Prior to cognizing that ’I live’ Equals to ’I love’ or else ’I breathe’. There’ll be a lot of pilgrimage and veering: The Realm of Love is a prodigious land; Moreover, ever more severe ordeals For chivalry of hers, she will demand: She’ll rob of any rest, repose and sleep, She’ll call for years of living