It is not only
The things you care about
That thug at you
But now and again
Things you think you hate as well:
Case in point; I hate this country
I hate the carefree freedom
I hate their smiles
I hate their ceaseless appetite
For everything fascinating
And I hate being fascinated by it
I can’t stand their music
I can’t stand the underground
Brightness of their light
Hate my dream is always of them
Dreaming I want all they have
Dreaming I wishing I was them:
Doesn’t it sound just depraved?
That I constantly am struggling
Against all that fascinates me?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem