The Rhythmic Structure of Vladimir Vysotsky’s Poems and Songs.

The Structure of the Song “What I Hate”.

a.
B.
a.
B.

11+1.
10+2.
11+1.
10+4.

2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10-12-14.

(*) (*) I hate the fatal end with any reason, (*)
Life never makes me tired, faint or blue. (*) (*)
I count to be unlucky any season (*)
When I don’t sing my merry songs to you. (*) (*) (*) (*)

a.
B.
a.
B.

11+1.
10+2.
11+1.
10+4.

2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10-12-14.

I loathe persons cynical and cold, (*)
Use caution when someone shows too much glee. (*) (*)
I hate it when a stranger is so bold, (*)
That reads my letters peeping over me. (*) (*) (*) (*)

a.
B.
a.
B.

11+1.
10.
11+1.
10+2.

2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10.
2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10-12.

It vexes me when things are half-completed, (*)
Or when for others’ acts I feel some shame.
To shoot in the foe’s back is mean and bitter, (*)
To shoot the foe point-blank is just the same. (*) (*)

a.
B.
a.
B.

11+1.
10.
11+1.
10+4.

2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10.
2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10-12-14.

It’s strange to me when people for gossips care, (*)
Or with no reason kick up a big fuss.
I hate it when I’m stroked against the hair, (*)
Or when I hear how iron crushes glass. (*) (*) (*) (*)

a.
B.
a.
B.

11+1.
10.
11+1.
10+2.

2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10.
2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10-12.

To spend the time in vanity is rotten, (*)
I’d rather choose to rush on with no brakes.
It’s a disgrace that honor is forgotten, (*)
And seers end their livings at the stakes. (*) (*)

a.
B.
a.
B.

11+1.
10.
11+1.
10+2.

2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10.
2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10-12.

Broken wings make upon me a faint impression, (*)
And don’t ye call me obdurate and hard—
I hate them both, depression and aggression; (*)
But what’s happed to the Christ does hurt my heart. (*) (*)

a.
B.
a.
B.

11+1.
10.
11+1.
10+2.

2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10.
2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10-12.

I hate myself when I become so cold, (*)
That I can watch how innocents are hit.
I hate it when they climb into my soul, (*)
And hate it when they try to sully it. (*) (*)

a.
B.
a.
B.

11+1.
10.
11+1.
10.

2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10.
2-4-6-8-10-12.
2-4-6-8-10.

I hate it when true arts are turned to vending, (*)
When Mother Nature’s riches dissipate.
And though there great changes are impending, (*)
I’ll never fall in love with what I hate! (*) (*)

Main Page.