I hate the endings that are grim and fatal, I love my life and everything I do, I hate all seasons of the year when Iím unable To sing my joyous songs to all of you. I hate the bitter cynics, cold like ice, But pure excitement isnít any better, I hate it when a strangerís drifting eyes Peer from behind, to read my private letters. I hate any half-hearted, fickle act, Or when my conversations canít be frank. Or when one shoots another in the back, Or even worse, - when it is done point-blank, Or when the facts and gossip become blurred, I hate it when suspicions do not pass, I hate it when Iím rubbed, against the fur, Or when the metalís scrapped against the glass. I cannot stand, both arrogance and pride, Iíd rather have my breaks abruptly fail! It saddens me that honorís pushed aside, That slander hides behind an honest veil. When I see broken wings, I donít pretend to Commiserate, or pity oneís demise, I hate both domination and surrender, Though something moves me when I think of Christ. I hate it when I am scared. I feel appalled When guiltless men are victimized and hit, I hate it when they climb into my soul, And when inside, I hate it when they spit. I hate the markets and arenas filled with grime, Where everything is cheapened in the trade, Perhaps, a lot of this will change with time, But I will always hate the things I hate.
© Andrey Kneller. Translation, ?