forgive me, Dear friend,
The two-year silence:
Write you a message
I was too busy.
A troika prenesenny
From humble homeland
In the great city of Petra,
From morning to morning
Two years everything circled
Around in troubles,
yawning, veselylsya
In the theatre, pirates,
I did not know the rest,
Alas! nor for an hour,
As if the lectern
The Great Thursday
Exhausted by the sacristan.
but the glory, Heavy!
On a flat road
I went Now;
Already I pushed the door
Worries and sadness,
who played,
ashamed of, me so long;
And in the holy silence
philosopher lazy,
Away from the noise,
I live in town,
happy obscurity.
I hired a light house
On the sofa, with fireside;
Three rooms are simple -
They Zlata, no bronze,
And tissue Discharge
Not Croutes their parquet.
The windows to the garden cheerful,
Where linden elderly
With cherry blossom;
Where I was in the midday hours
Birch dark vaults
Cool Canopy give;
Where is the snow-white lily
Entwined with delicate violet,
And a quick trickle,
The jets carrying flower,
Invisible to the eye,
Babbles fence.
Here is your good poet
live safely;
Do not walk into a trendy light:
The street carriages
Can not hear the sound of tiresome:
There does not have thunder:
Only occasionally cart
Skrypit bridged,
Ile traveler, in my house
And when he came to look for accommodation,
road crutch
The gate knocks ...
beatific, who rejoice
At rest, no worries,
Who secretly Phoebus to be friends
And the little Eros;
beatific, who in the open
In a quiet corner
Do not think about the grief,
Walk in the bell,
drinks, eating, when he wants,
About guests not hlopočet!
Nobody, one he
lazy one
The bed does not interfere;
Wants - Aoide
Crowd to him szyvaet;
Wants - sweetly asleep,
Leaning on Rifmova
And quietly forgetting.
So I, my dear friend,
Now located;
With the crowd shameless servants
goodbye forever;
Sheltered in the office,
One I do not miss
And often, a light
With delight I forget.
Friends Me - Dead,
Parnassian priests;
Over Polk simple
Under the thin taffeta
They live with me.
singers eloquent,
witty writers
In order to become here.
Son of Moma and Minerva,
Ferneyskyy zloy screamer,
Therefore, the first poet in,
Are you here, a gray-haired rascal!
He was raised by Phoebus,
Izdetstva became a poet:
All over reread,
All less afflict;
rival Euripides,
Erato gentle friend,
Arьosta, Tassa grandson -
l tell?... Father Candida -
he still; always great
The only old man!
On a shelf behind Voltaire
Virgilij, Tass by Gomer
All coming together.
In the morning hours of leisure
I often apart
I love them to tear off.
Pets young Graces -
Since then Derzhavins
sensitive Horace
He is alone.
And you, singer amiable,
poetry pretty
Heart attracted prisoner,
Are you here, lazy careless,
sage simple-hearted,
Vanyusha Lafontaine!
You are here - and Dmitry gentle,
Your loving fiction,
Found reliable shelter
Krylov near you. —
But here's the breastplate cute
Psyche zlatokryloy!
On the good Lafontaine,
With you, he dared to fight ...
Kohl can you marvel,
Look: you defeated!
Raising Cupid
Verger, Guys with Grekurom
They took refuge in a corner.
(More than once they leave
And the dream of the eye is removed
Under the winter evening).
Here the lake with Racine,
Rousseau and Karamzin,
From Moliere-giant
Von Visine and Knyazhnin.
After them, frowning important,
Their formidable Aristarchus
It is courageous
The sixteen volumes.
Though scary stihotkachu
La Harpe see taste,
But often, I confess,
Above it I spend time.
cemetery found
On the bottom shelf
All schoolboy talk,
Lying in the dust,
Vizgova essay,
Glupona psalm,
famous works
Alas! one mice.
World and eternal oblivion
And the prose and poetry!
But they Protections
(You should know)
I hid the secret
morocco notebook.
This precious scroll,
For centuries savings,
From a member of Russian forces,
Cousin,
Dragoon soldier
I received a gift.
You, it seems, in doubt ...
It is not difficult to guess;
So, this work,
defiant printing.
thank you, fame chady,
Enemies Parnasskii ties!
About Prince, foxglove Music,
I love your fun;
I love your poignant verse
In your letters,
The satire - known world
And the purity of style,
And in verse playfulness
playful sharpness.
And you, bold scoffer,
In her place was,
Whose cheerful whistling in hell
poets provoked,
How in the teen letы
The waves of misty Years
Their band drowned;
And you, intricate
Buyanov singer,
In the paintings of roofing rich
And the taste of the sample;
And you, joker priceless,
which Melpomene
Buskins and dagger
Playfulness given Talyi!
Whose brush me draw,
Whose brush skompaniruet
this original!
Here I see a Chernavka
Podschipa tears pouring;
Here Prince trembles under the bench,
There slumber the whole board;
The tragic disarray
Plenennыe reigns,
forgetting the war, battle,
Play in their tops ...
But I call eh lad,
That the good times
notebook half
Filled only a!
Oh you, Parnassus heights
boyar small,
But pыlkoho Pegasus
rider swashbuckling!
Namarannye odes,
The decoration of attics,
Glas from generation to generations:
great, great - Svistov!
I can appreciate your gift,
Though not an expert on the right;
But here, do not you dare
Praise to weave a wreath:
Svistovskim must syllable
Svistova chant;
But, get out of the god,
How do you, I am pleased to swear,
I'm not going to write.
About you, in my desert
favorite creators!
Take the now
carelessness hours.
a friend of mine! all day I'm with them,
What a thought deepened,
That your thoughts
In Эliziy transferred.
When at sunset
The last ray of dawn
Sink in bright Zlate,
And the kings of the light
It was getting dark night
Floating on the sky,
And quietly asleep grove,
And the rustle of the forest,
My genius invisible
Fly me;
And I'm in the quiet night
Merge their voice
With the shepherds bagpipe.
Brother! happy, happy is he,
Who lyre as a gift from Phoebe
In the prime days will!
How brave resident sky,
He will soar to the sun,
Deadly above will,
And thank loud clap:
"Immortal poet vvek!»
But her proud of me eh,
But I eh immortality be tempted?…
To tears I am happy to argue,
I bet not a bet,
who knows, And me, may be,
Print impose their
Heavenly Apollo;
The heavenly light shining,
intrepid flight
Vzlechu on Helicon.
Not all I betrayed corruptible;
With my, may be, shadow
sometimes the midnight
Phoebe young son,
My great-grandson of an enlightened,
talk will
And I have inspired
On lire vozdohnet.
meanwhile, one precious,
fireplace lit,
I sit by the window
With paper and pen,
Not glory before me,
But one friendship
I now inspire.
a friend of mine, I'm happy it.
Well why hast her sister,
Lyuboviyu youth
In vain flame?
Or the golden youth
In vain have given me roses,
And shed tears forever
The vale, which blossomed
My sorrowful destiny?…
Cute singer soputnik,
Mechtanye legkokrыlo!
ABOUT, be thou with me,
Give me your hand sensuality
And with a circular bowl
Lead me to happiness
oblivion path:
And in the hour of silent night,
When the lazy mak
Cover languid eyes,
On windy wings
Come running to my house close,
gently knock,
And in the silence of the charming
With a favorite of Embrace!
Dream! in a magical canopy
I pretty shew,
My light, my guardian angel,
The subject of my love,
And the eyes of heaven shine,
Liyuschih fire in heart,
And Graces lovely camp
And the snow on her face;
Imagine, what, on the knees
Resting my,
In the torture of gusty
it slopes
To passionate breast-feeding,
Through the words on the lips,
Illuminates the face beautiful,
And tears in his eyes!..
Why hast boom unseen
Already you are flying away?
Cheat - and lost
fugitive irrecoverable!
Not hear the weeping and groaning
And where the winged dream?
disappear deceiver,
And in the heart of sadness, torturer.
But whether all, Dear friend,
Be happy in ecstasy?
And in the spirit of the languid sadness
to find delight:
I love on a summer day
Wander alone with melancholy,
Celebrate Vespers shadow
On the quiet Ryoko
And with a sweet tear
In what gloomy look;
I love my Maron
Under clear the horizon
Sitting near the lake,
Where is the snow-white swan,
Leaving grass waterfront,
Lюbvi Nagy and full,
With his girlfriend,
Proudly gave sheyu,
Plыvet in gold wool.
Or, for fun,
Leaves Books uchenye,
In an hour I dosuzhny
In pious old ladies
Scented tea drink,
I do not fit the handle,
Not shuffling in front of her;
She did not squat,
But immediately, and news
I chasm naboltal.
newspapers collects
On all sides it,
all Svedala, learns:
Who died, who love,
Someone's wife in the fashion
horns removed,
In which a kitchen garden
Cabbage color gave,
Thomas his mistress
Not at all punished,
Antoshka balalaika
playing broke. —
The old woman will tell all;
Meanwhile, as the knit skirt,
Talking all his;
And I sit humbly
The depth of dreams,
Not listening to her.
On rhymes swashbuckling
So once Svistova
In the capital, I listened to.
When their creations
He eagerly read to me,
Brother! it is seen, god is trying
Then my patience!
Or my good neighbor,
seventy years,
Dismissed from service
Major retired,
Calling me out of friendship
Bread and salt to dine with him.
the evening revelry
Old man, cheer up,
For Dedovsk mug
In the past to deepen,
With Ochakovo medal
On the chest of a wounded,
Vospomnit the battles,
Where a company ahead
He flew to a meeting of Fame,
But I met with a nucleus
And he fell on the bloody dollars
With damask sword.
I always am happy soul
With him while escorting the,
But, Christ, to blame!
I pre repent thee,
thy servants,
I Popov urban
I'm afraid, afraid to talk
And the wedding dinner
Then only I can not stand,
That rural priests,
Dad Jews,
I do not like,
And with them hooked
Podyacheskaya people,
Only the rich bribes
And a sneak bulwark.
But, My friend, estli soon
I'll see you,
We leave the mountain
For circular bowl;
’, by the gods,
(And so the word will keep)
I'm with rural priests
Prayer otsluzhu.
