Текст песни Владимир Высоцкий - 9. Высота

They clung to the height, as to their own,
Mortar fire, heavy.
And we all climbed in a crowd on her,
Like a station buffet.

And shouts of "Hurray!" Stuck in my mouth
When we swallowed bullets.
We have occupied that height six times,
We left her six times.

And again everyone does not want to attack,
The earth is like burnt porridge.
For the eighth time we will take her for good,
Let's take our blood, ours.

Or maybe bypass it,
And that we clung to it.
But you can see for sure all the fate-paths
On this skyscraper they crossed.

They clung to the height, as to their own,
Mortar fire, heavy.
And we all climbed in a crowd on her,
Like a station buffet.

V.S. Vysotsky
1965