Hero

What is truth?

Friend.

Yes, Glory to the whims free to.
As the fiery language, she
According to elect the head of flies,
On the one today disappears
And on the other already visible.
For the novelty run humbly
People accustomed to senseless;
But we certainly something sacred brow,
Over whom he broke this language.
On the throne, on the bloody field,
between citizens on the other chrede
From now, all the elect who Bole
Thy supreme soul?

Poet.

everything he, All it - this stranger abusive,
Before whom the kings of the lowly,
this warrior, liberty crowned,
Disappeared, as the shadow of the dawn.

Friend.

When's your mind he strikes
His Wonderful Star?
Then l, how he looks to Alps
At the bottom of the Italian saint;
Then there, as the lack banner
Ile dictatorial rod; then l,
As the leads and the circle and the distance
War rapid flame,
And flies a number of victories
Above him the other one followed suit;
Then l, as an army hero splashes
Before hromadoy Pyramid,
Or as Moscow deserted shine.
accepting it, - and is silent?

Poet.

Not, Happiness is not in the bosom
I see it, not fight,
Not-law of Caesar on the throne;
Not there, where his rock
sowing, bruised rest PENALTY,
Ridiculed the nickname of the hero,
He dies motionless,
Cloak close combat.
Not the picture of me prev!
Odrov I see a long operation,
It rests with each corpse alive,
Kleymennыy powerfully plague,
Queen diseases ... he,
Rebuke death surrounded,
frowning, He walks between odrami
I met cold hand Cume,
And in the mind of the dying
Gives birth to courage ... Heaven
I swear: who lives their
Played before a gloomy disease,
To encourage extinguished eyes,
I swear, the sky is different,
Whatever the verdict
Earth blind ...

Friend.

Dreams of the poet -
Historian rigorous driving you!
Alas! his voice rang, —
And where enchantment of light!

Poet.

Cursed be the light of truth,
When mediocrity hladnoy,
begrudgingly, to the temptation of a greedy,
He caters to idle! - Not!
Darkness low truths dearer
We elevates deception ...
Be the hero of the heart! What
He will be without? Tyrant…

Friend.

Console yourself ..................

29 September
1830
Moscow.

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Alexander Pushkin
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