From cycle - "It is all wrong, boys ...by Vladimir Vysotsky
How I detest the fatal final curtain!
I never find life dull or wearying.
I have got no time for any time or season
When I don't have a cheerful song to sing.
I have got no time for cynicism cold, nor
Can I be fooled by hankerings for the Grail.
I hate when people peer over my shoulder
And crane their necks to try to read my mail.
I can't stant those whose actions are half - hearted.
Or who interrupt a cordial exchange;
Or shoot you in the back, an easy target,
Or pull a gun on you at point - blank range.
I can't stand idle talk in any vein.
The worms of doubt, the needles of false praise,
Or things that are meant to go against the grain
Are grate your nerves like metal scraped on glass.
I don't like self - assured complacency.
You are better off being hanged and letting rip.
I don't like those who forget all decency
And give an ear to slanderous gossip.
I don't feel sympathy for damaged limbs
Or broken wings - lame ducks I can't abide.
I don't like bullies or acquiescent victims -
Yet pity moves me for Christ crucified.
I hate it when I have prayed the coward's part.
I hate to see the guiltless victimised.
I hate when people pry into my heart,
The more so when it is spat on and despised.
I can not abide the stadium or ring
Where all is vilely cheapened and defiled.
Whatever alterations time may bring
To these I know I won't be reconciled.