I do not like despair of fatal endings, Do not avoid life’s ardor and delights, I do not like the feel of seasons ebbing, When happy songs are not a part of life. I do not like a cynic’s cold gestures, Do not believe in fake devotion, and When strangers dare to peruse my letters, Look over my shoulder in contempt. I do not like when something is half-finished, Or when they interrupt a friendly chat, I do not like shots in the back in treason, I’m also against being shot point-blank. I hate when gossiping is taken for being real, The worms of doubt, tributes of the class, Or when against the grain I’m treated, Or sound of iron scratching on the glass. I do not like the smugness of the riches, – It’s better if the brakes fail outright. I’m bitter when word “honor” is in stitches, When slander is dished out from behind. When broken wings I witness laying in ruins – I feel no pity, though well I might: I do not like brutality and weakness, – Only regret Christ’s hopes crucified. I do not like myself when filled with fear, I hate when innocents are tortured scot-free. I do not like my heart being torn with shears, And even less when someone spits at me. I do not like the stadiums’ arenas: A million goes there for a buck. And even with huge changes pending near – Will never play in wickedness a part!
© Yakov Shapiro. Translation, 2023