In days, when I was new
The impression of being -
And the eyes of virgins, and noise dubrovy,
And at night the singing of the nightingale -
When sublime feelings,
Freedom, glory and love
And inspired art
So much worried about the blood, —
Hours hopes and pleasures
Sudden longing Autumn,
Then some evil genius
He began secretly to visit me.
Our meetings were sad:
His smile, wonderful view,
His stinging speech
Poured poison into the soul hladny.
Neistoshtimoy klevetoyu
On Provide iskušal;
He called beautiful dream;
He despised inspiration;
He did not believe the love, freedom;
quizzically looking at life -
And there is nothing in all of nature
He did not want to bless.
