A guys, sad and caplif, my lyre
However awoke ...
Meanwhile,, how astonished the world
In the box Byron vzyraet,
And the chorus of European lire
Near Dante listens to his shadow,
Calling me another shadow,
Long time no songs, without rыdanyy
With the bloody chopping block in the days of suffering
Soshedshaya a burial Sen.
singer of love, dubrav and peace
I bear grave flowers.
Zvuchit neznaemaya pound,
sing. I heed it and you.
I bear the re tired ax
And the sacrifice of the new calling.
singer ready; thoughtful lira
The last time he sings.
Zautra penalty, people familiar feast;
But the young singer Lira
What sings? She sings freedom:
It did not change until the end of!
“Greetings, my light!
I will praise your heavenly face,
When he arose spark,
When you're in a storm was rising.
I will praise your holy thunder,
When he swept infamous stronghold
The authorities ancient pride
Dispelled ashes and shame:
I beheld thy sons civil courage,
I heard their brotherly vow,
Velykodushnuyu oath
And autocracy intrepid answer.
I mature, their being able to wave
all subverted, captivated,
And the fiery tribune predicted, full of delight,
land Degeneration.
Already shone thy wise genius,
Already in the immortal pantheon
Saints exiles were nice shade,
Shroud of predrassuzhdeny
Exposing the old throne;
shackles fell. Law,
Leaning on liberty, proclaimed the equality,
And we cried: Bliss!
O mountains! a mad dream!
Where liberty and the law? Above us
Single supreme ax.
We overthrew the kings. Killer with executioners
We have chosen to be king. Oh God! of shame!
Notes, sacred freedom,
goddess clean, not, - you're not guilty,
In a fit of violent blindness,
The abject fury of the people,
I will hide you from us; healing your vessel
Hung with bloody pall:
But you'll come back with a vengeance and glory, —
Again, your enemies shall fall;
People, Your nectar tasted again blessed,
All of them looking again revel;
As if angry Bacchus,
He wanders, zhazhdoyu tomym;
So - he will find you. Secretly in a pavilion equality
In the arms of your sweet he rested;
So gloomy storm blowjob!
But I shall see you no, glory days, days of bliss:
I'm doomed to the scaffold. last hours
Vlaco. Zautra penalty. solemn hand
The executioner will raise my chapter of his hair
Over the indifferent crowd.
Sorry, oh friends! My homeless ashes
There will be no rest in the garden, which accompanied
We carefree days in the sciences and in the feasts
And the place of our pre-assigned boxes.
But, other, if me
Sacred your recollection.
Fulfill my last wish:
mourn, cute, my lot in silence;
Terrified tears excite suspicions;
In this age of, you know, and tears crime:
Oh brother regret not dare now brother.
Well one another plea: you heard a hundred times
Poetry, Volatile doom creatures of negligent,
diverse, cherished legends
All my mladosti. Hopes and dreams,
And tears, and love, friends, these sheets
All my life store. In Abel, the Fanni,
pray, find them; innocent muse tribute
Sberite. strict light, haughty rumor
will not be in charge of their. Alas, my head
untimely fall: my unripe genius
For glory is not accomplished the lofty creations;
I'll all die. But, shadow of my love,
Keep the manuscript, the other, for myself!
When the storm will pass, tolpoyu superstition
Sbiralsya sometimes read my scroll faithful,
AND, long listening, tell: It is he;
Here is his speech. And I, forgetting grave dream,
I will ascend invisible and sit between you,
And he be listening, and your tears
Upyus and ..., may be, I am comforted
love; may be, The prisoner and my,
Dull and pale, poems love listening to ...”
But, gentle songs instantly interrupting,
Mlada singer bowed his head thoughtful.
It's time to spring him with love, longingly
He raced in front of him. Krasavic Tomny eyes
And songs, and feasts, and fiery night,
All together revived; heart and away we go
Far away ... and the murmur of poetry poured out:
“Where, which lured me hostile to genius?
Born to Love, for peaceful temptations,
Why I left the obscure life of a shadow,
Freedom and friends, and the sweet laziness?
The fate of my cherished Zlata Mladost;
Blithely handed me the joy crowned,
And muse net shared my leisure.
On busy evenings friends beloved friend,
I sweetly announce and laughter, and verses
Sen, Saving the household gods.
when will, Bacchic anxiety Utomo
And a new flame nezapno inflamed,
I was finally in the morning to the lovely maiden
And found her confused and angry;
When, threats, and tears in his eyes,
Cursing my age, lost in the feasts,
She drove me, defended and passed:
How sweet my life flowed and flowed!
Why from this life, lazy and easy,
I rushed back, where the fatal horror,
Where the wild passion, where the lush ignorant,
And malice, and greed! Where, my hopes,
You lured me! What was I,
To me, faithful love, poetry and silence,
At low field with abject fighters!
Eh I had to control recalcitrant horses
And cool strain powerless reins?
And what do I leave? forgotten traces
Insane jealousy and audacity void.
perish, my voice, and you, a ghost false,
You, word, empty sound ...
ABOUT, not!
Umolkni, murmurings malodushnыy!
Be proud and rejoice, poet:
You wilted head of an obedient
Before disgrace of our years;
You despised the powerful villain;
your svetoch, ugly flames,
Cruel brilliance shone
Tip infamous rulers;
Your scourge overtook them, punished
So butchers autocratic:
Your verse whistled on their heads;
You called on them, you have praised the Nemesis;
You sang Maratova priests
Dagger and maiden-Eumenides!
When the holy old man tore off the chopping block
The crowning chapter arm numb,
You boldly gave them both a hand,
And before you in awe
Areopagus ostervenelыy.
be proud, be proud, singer; and you, ferocious beast,
My head Play Now:
It is in your claws. But listen, know, bezbozhnыy:
my cry, my ardent laughter haunts you!
Drink our blood, live, waste:
You still pygmy, pygmy worthless.
And the time will come ... and it really is not far off:
shall fall, tyrant! Indignation
finally rise up. Fatherland sob
Wake up tired rock.
Now it's time to go ... ... but you follow me;
I'm waiting for you”.
So sang enthusiastic poet.
And yet rested. Lamps soft light
Pale morning before dawn,
And the morning blew up in prison. The poet
By Reshotka raised important sights ...
suddenly the noise. Came, call. They are! there Is no Hope!
sound keys, locks, constipation.
Name Wait ..., wait; day only, day one:
And no executions, and freedoms,
And alive great citizen
Among the great people.
not hear. procession bezmolvno. waiting for the executioner.
But the death of the poet friendship charm.
Here is the scaffold. he ascended. He refers to the glory ...
cry, muza, cry!..
