Thirty-five years ago, died actor, singer and poet Vladimir Vysotsky. The Soviet press hardly reacted to this tragic news: a short message put only one newspaper. Vysotsky had no titles, no awards. However, the value of his work and his personality was already clear to everyone, and then, and in subsequent years only increased. “Newspaper. Ru »gathered the fragments of memories of people close to Vladimir Vysotsky about the last days of his life and the first days of life without it.
Marina Vlady. From the book “Vladimir, or Interrupted Flight»
At four o’clock in the morning the twenty-fifth of July, I wake up in a sweat, light the light, sit on the bed. On the pillow – red trail, I crushed a huge mosquito. I’m not stopping looking at the pillow – I like it a bright spot conjured. It takes a lot of time, and when the phone rings, I know I do not hear your voice. “Volodya died.” That’s it, two little words spoken unfamiliar voice. You crushed ice, you could not break it.
In the room with the windows closed is your body. You’re wearing a black sweater and black pants. Hair slicked back, his forehead open, his face frozen in a tight, almost angry expression. Long white hands folded limply on his chest. Only in them is seen peace. Because you pumped blood and injected into the veins of a special liquid, because in Russia a long farewell to the deceased before burial. I am alone with you, I say to you, I touch your face, hands, I had a long cry. “Never again” – these two words suffocate me. Anger squeezes my heart. How could disappear so much talent, generosity, strength? Why is this body is obedient, every muscle is responsible for any of your desires, lies motionless? Where is the voice, the fury that shook the crowd? Like you, I do not believe in the life hereafter. Like you, I know that it ends with the last convulsion that we would never see each other again. I hate this confidence.
Yuri Lyubimov. From the book “Tales of the old Trepachev»
«You are all anti-Soviet” – the Soviet Goebbels shouted, as it is known in our circles, I called the “unfinished Abramov” – patter they looked like, People such hurriedly at him, but Fedor is compared to this – Socrates, no less. Leave my peers and friends, my son, to the country, where neither returned, as the sad Prince and Little Goebbels all screaming.
«All your surroundings anti-Soviet, and the drunken bastard – just like Zhdanov Zoshchenko about – well, think, had some talantishko, and the propyl, several songs composed and imagined.”
«Yes, he died, not good since the late, why cry, Comrade Secretary, and if your rank is even indecent.” I screamed: “You have my contract” – and went rattling threats.
After the death of Volodya they began to gnaw me like in his song “Hunting wolves” it gnawed. Thank God, we have buried against their wishes – human. In the old Moscow cemetery Vagankovo - where Yesenin lies, and I lay there, but that, apparently, is now unknown, where he was buried. Friends say, breech grind them was not working. He lay on the stage, where he played Hamlet, which is so easy and beautiful for many years was probably on those podiums, more than one hundred kilometers; amazing was his gait. There were thousands of people walked day and night, and then three years have passed, always with his portrait flowers. And the grave is not visible, covered with flowers all.
Alla Demidova. From the memories
And his premonition of death … Someday analyst literary trace the connection between these, for example, the lines: “When I otpoyu and play …,” “I throat in the vein of poison yourself to drive … “” Who was tragically ended his life, the true poet … “,” tired of fighting with the attraction of the earth … “or” Kate Caterina ‘”Requiem to come … “. Or, “Do not put me somewhere monument at Peter’s gate …” I’m not talking about his wonderful prophetic poem “Monument”.
He lived in the Jurassic and is buried at the gate at the entrance to the cemetery. I initially felt sorry that such an open place we bury him. But now I realize that probably will not find a better place. This cemetery is a lot of good people. I often think, that they would get together to talk and sing together. Because people – singers who throated who heart. Yesenin Shpalikov, Dal, Dvorzhetsky, Vysotsky.
… In August 1980, in the house of creativity “Repin” my friends and I sat, and each told me what he heard news of the death of Volodya. I ran a story in memory of Ilya Averbuch: “We lived at that time in Valdai. One evening I listlessly leafing through the script, which I thrust before leaving Vysotsky, read the script and was annoyed that the well-fed, well-off people offer me to take a picture of dying from hunger … And during my angry monologue I heard on foreign radio message on the death of Vladimir Vysotsky. After the shock, after all the talk about the expected surprise this end I took the script before going to bed and began to re-read it again. I liked it all. And I thought: What could have been a great movie with these unique actors and would like Vysotsky perfectly accurate in this role … »
Benjamin laugh. From the book “The theater of my memory»
In the last year, he almost did not happen in the theater. In serious account of his on Taganka dragged three “magnet”: Hamlet, LOPAKHIN David Borovsky (the main artist Taganka Theater. – “Times”). Little is known about what is happening in the soul of a poet, even very close friends.
… and have fun, and remember the sad episode is now with my unexpected good fortune in the journal “Aurora”. The fifth issue of the journal Leningrad in 1980 out of the fragments of my manuscript. “Aurora” two years pulled this “shot” because Vysotsky. And I did not agree to include portraits of Demidova, Zolotukhin, Tabakov Vizbora, Slava was not the head of Volodya. I could not accept because Volodya in the dressing room, while all signed bet with me: not about him printed banned. And I was excited, because I knew back in the 78th year that the entire publication is typed, that is about to come-layout editing … Several times pereverstyvali and transported. Finally, thanks to the intervention of Fyodor Abramov’s book “Aurora” came out and I won the bet … I gave Wysocki magazine on the penultimate “Hamlet” … The day before his death, his house was Valery Plotnikov, whose pictures were accompanied by my publication. He saw a little red booklet “Aurora» №5, asked Volodya and heard in response: “I am pleased about yourself … I do not read Latin font …” And his sons told to get copies of the magazine.
All you had about himself and his work to read in their native language poet Vysotsky: the publication in the “Day of Poetry”, published in the journal “Chemistry and Life” (!), N. Krymova article in the journal “The Club and amateur “about his creative evening in the House of the actor in the 67th year, a booklet describing the member of the Union of Cinematographers of film roles Vl. S. Vysotsky, the good work of Irina Rubanova … And so, my winnings in our bet, “Aurora» №5 …
But Vysotsky was able to avenge the insult extraordinary: the authorities forbade to publish poems and speak in public, and he, as it turned out after the death, sounded and was loved like no other …
On the day of the funeral of Vysotsky, July 28, 1980, these people, such a flow of persons passed by the tomb of Vladimir Vysotsky Taganka! And at night, the house of Vladimir, Bella Akhmadulina from himself and sent all the poet’s soul, to heaven, to say thank you from the heart – for the first time that he has given us the right to call the population – the “people”. With the departure of Vladimir Vysotsky suddenly realized metaphor – “national love» …
Teodor Gladkov, a writer, a neighbor of the house of Vladimir Vysotsky. From an interview with “Around the TV»
– said Vysotsky’s funeral were just popular?
– I have this in my lifetime seen. Four in the morning, our home table, the coffin, hearse quietly preparing Volodya transported to the theater … and wanted to get ponezametnee to do it so as not to attract attention. What is there: opposite the hostel – and in each window the people on the roof – the people. At four in the morning! By the theater barely arrived – so many people were. The whole area is paved with Volodin posters. Four general in command of the funeral. I remember the funeral of dead drunk Oleg Dal. Less than a year later he would die because of alcohol … All the houses in the course of our journey in the windows of people exposed portraits of Vladimir Vysotsky, who did not have them – exhibited envelopes from his discs. I remember the words of actor Anatoly Romashin “So even the generals are buried,” to which Romashin replied: “What generals – as Stalin’s last funeral …»
– Do you think Vysotsky was a chance to escape?
– Yes, and it pains me to say this. We had only some of his desire. A desire to live in recent years, he appears and disappears. He is very afraid of the moment when no longer be able to write. And as if preparing himself for this, often he said, “I did all this life …” I remember one day go to the elevator at the same time with Nina Maximovna – it’s all lit, see, wants me to ask her, for what reason. I asked. She replied: “I became a great-grandmother. The first-born was born at the Arkady. ” I asked: “And how do you feel in the role of grandparents?” She sighed, “I have something very good, but imagine Volodya grandfather, I can not.” Vysotsky’s really impossible to imagine old. He retired as a true poet – at takeoff.
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