Текст песни Владимир Высоцкий - Мой Гамлет.

I will explain only a little in the verse -
 I have no authority for everything ...
 I was conceived as necessary in sin -
 In the sweat and nerves of the wedding night.

 I knew that, coming off the ground,
 The higher we are, the stiffer and sterner;
 I walked quietly straight to the kings
 And behaved like a blood prince.

 I knew - everything will be as I want,
 I have not been vnaklade and in the loss,
 My friends on school and sword
 They served me like their fathers - crowns.

 I did not think what I was saying,
 And with ease, he threw the words into the wind -
 They believed me as they did the leader,
 All high-ranking children.

 The night watchmen were afraid of us,
 As a smallpox, time hurt us.
 I slept on the skins, I ate meat from the knife
 And the evil horse tormented by stirrups.

 I knew - I will be told: "Tsaruy!" -
 Stamp on my forehead rocked me with a birth.
 And I got drunk among the chased collectors,
 He was patient with the violence of words and books.

 I could only smile with my mouth,
 A secret look, when he is angry and bitter,
 I managed to hide, brought up by a jester, -
 The fool is dead now: "Amen!" Poor Yorik! ..

 But I refused to share
 Awards, booties, fame, privileges:
 Suddenly I felt sorry for the dead page,
 I went around green shoots ...

 I forgot hunting excitement,
 He hated both greyhounds and hounds,
 I drove the horse back from the house
 And he beat beaters and hunters with a whip.

 I saw our games every day
 More and more resembled riots, -
 In flowing waters at night, secretly
 I washed myself of the day's swinishness.

 I became aware, stupid every day,
 I missed home intrigues.
 I did not like the age, and people in it
 I did not like it, and I buried myself in books.

 My brain, to knowledge as greedy as a spider,
 Everything comprehended: motion and movement, -
 But there is no sense of thought and science,
 When everywhere they deny.

 With friends of childhood the thread was frayed,
 The thread of Ariadne turned out to be a scheme.
 I fought over the words "to be, not to be,"
 Like an insoluble dilemma.

 But eternally, eternally splashing sea of ​​misfortune, -
 In him we arrows sword - in a sieve millet,
 Sifting the ghostly answer
 From the pretentious question.

 Call of ancestors hearing through a hushed rumble,
 I went to the call, - doubts crept from the rear,
 The load of heavy thoughts went upward,
 And the wings of the flesh were dragged down to the grave.

 In an unstable raft I was soldered by days -
 Hardly frozen, he began to crawl away.
 I shed blood like everyone else - and, like them,
 I could not refuse revenge.

 And my rise before death is a failure.
 Ophelia! I do not accept corruption.
 But I called myself a murder
 With the one with whom I fell into the same land.

 I'm Hamlet, I despised violence,
 I spit on the Danish crown, -
 But in their eyes - for the throne I throat tore
 And he killed the rival on the throne.

 But the splash of genius is like a delusion,
 In the birth of death skips obliquely.
 And we all put a tricky answer
 And we do not find the right question.

 1972