I donít love a fatal outcomes, I never get tired of life, I donít love any time of year, In which I am sick or I drink. I donít love open cynicism, I donít believe in being trusting, and even less - When a stranger reads my letters, By glancing over my shoulder. I donít love when itís half-way Or when they interrupt me. I donít love when they shoot in the back, Iím also against shooting from a benchrest. I hate rumors in the form of a version, Or worms of doubt, a needle of honor... Or when someone is always against fur, Or when they beat iron against glass. I donít love overconfidence - Itís better should the brakes fail. Iím annoyed, that the word honor has been forgotten And that honor is now a slander to the eyes. When I see broken wings - I have no pity and for good reason: I donít love violence and helplessness I am pity the crucifiction of Christ. I donít love myself, when I act cowardly, It annoys me when they beat up the innocent. I donít love when they climb inside my soul, Even less, when they spit on it! I donít love stockmarkets or arenas - There they exchange a million for a rubel... So what if there are big changes be up ahead - That Iíll never love!
© Peter Struwwel. Translation, ?