Текст песни Владимир Высоцкий - Расстрел горного эха

In the quiet of the pass, where the cliffs winds no obstacle, hindrance,
On the steep slopes of these, what no one has penetrated, no one entered,
Lived happily ever cheerful mountain mountain echo.
It responds to a cry, a human cry.

When loneliness clod rolled under his throat, a throat
And muffled groan hardly audible in the fall open in fall break,
Cry for help echo the pick up, pick up quickly,
Effort and carefully - in the hands of its own - will carry.

It must be bad people, intoxication and drunk potions and potions,
To not heard anyone loud clatter and snoring,
                                               Stomp and snoring,
They came to kill, obezzvuchit living, living Gorge
And the echo tied and stuck it in his mouth gag.

Throughout the night continued bloody evil fun, fun,
And the echo trampled, but no one heard a sound, no one heard ...
By morning shot hushed mining, echo,
And tears gushed as stones, rocks of the wounded ...
And the stones gushed tears of wounded rocks ...