I don't like
by Vladidmir Vysotsky
I don't like the fatal passing either,
And life is not the thing I'm tired with.
I don't like the every time of year,
When I can't joyously songs to sing.
I don't like the cold rotten cynicism,
And don't believe in ecstasy, and more:
I don't like when somebody is reading
My letters, looking over my shoulder.
I don't like when work is done in a half-way,
And don't like when the talk is interrupted.
I don't like the shooting in my back then,
But in the need I'll fire straight at somebody.
I don't like the gossip as a version,
The worms of doubt, honour thorn as a pass,
Or when they flatter contrary to coat,
Or when they draw with iron at the glass.
I don't like the confidence repleted,
It's better when the brakes then all break down.
How annoying, that "honour" word's depleted,
While slander is distributed around.
When I do see the fractured wings, no pity
I have in me, and here the reason is:
I don't like the violence or weakness,
But I regret for crusified Christ.
I don't like myself, if I'm frightened,
And don't stand when the innocent are beaten.
I don't like when someone in my soul thrusts,
And ever more, when someone's spitting in.
I don't like the circus rings and stages,
Where millions're exchanged to only one rouble.
Let it would be in future many changes,
I never ever like this, to be true.
-----
Я НЕ ЛЮБЛЮ
Владимир Высоцкий
Я не люблю фатального исхода,
От жизни никогда не устаю.
Я не люблю любое время года,
Когда веселых песен не пою.
Я не люблю холодного цинизма,
В восторженность не верю, и еще:
Когда чужой мои читает пмсьма,
Заглядывая мне через плечо.
Я не люблю, когда наполовину
Или когда прервали разговор.
Я не люблю, когда стреляют в спину,
Но, если надо, выстрелю в упор.
Я ненавижу сплетни в виде версий,
Червей сомненья, почестий иглу,
Или когда все время против шерсти,
Или когда железом по стеклу.
Я не люблю уверенности сытой,
Уж лучше пусть откажут тормоза.
Досадно мне, коль слово "честь" забыто
И коль в чести наветы за глаза.
Когда я вижу сломанные крылья,
Нет жалости во мне, и неспроста:
Я не люблю насилья и бессилья,
Вот только жаль распятого Христа.
Я не люблю себя, когда я трушу,
И не терплю. Когда невинных бьют,
Я не люблю, когда мне лезут в душу,
Тем более, когда в нее плюют.
Я не люблю манежи и арены,
На них мильон меняют по рублю, -
Пусть впереди большие перемены
Я это никогда не полюблю.
------
см. также:
В. Высоцкий. Я не люблю
Иван Самохин
I never like a fate’s sepulchral stare
And never treat my life as dull or bleak.
I never like the any time of year
When I am ill of something – or just drink.
I never like a cynical heart-colding,
Think there’s no excitement – and one more:
When someone very else above my shoulder
Reads letters that for me somewhere were.
I never like half-done, half-thought, half-witty
Or when а talk is killed, a face-to-faith.
I never like a gun behind a victim,
As well as I condemn the point-blanks.
I hate those gossips in a rank of versions,
A worm of doubt, a thorn of lauding fuss.
Or – when a hand of power brings distortion,
Or – when a blade of iron tortures glass.
I never like self-confident repletion,
For me breaklooseness is a better form.
I feel the pain if honour is untreasured
And if a secret slander is the Norm.
When broken wings bleed hard – and I’m a witness,
I feel no pity then – and that makes sense.
I never like nor violence, nor weakness,
But pity Jesus Christ – it takes place…
I never like my self when fear made it,
Get furious when innocence is guilt.
I never like my soul to be invaded,
Especially – be spoilt with a spit.
I never like a limelight – straight and sweating,
This odd exchange: your pearl for their thrill.
Though big and hopeful changes are awaiting,
I know I’ll never like it, never will!