By Delvig

Listen, muses innocent
Lukavыy cleric:
Tenant fields desert,
Poets sinful face
I multiplied him,
And I hung his head
Pre sweet dreams;
My uncle-poet
At that he gave me advice
And with the Muses betrothed.
At first I was naughty,
Joking verses kroil,
And there they were printed,
And now I have a brother
stupid empty,
So, these things, another
Yes, I'll blame and!

Thank you for sending -
But what I use is?
At the sinner then
After all, become a reproach
Pointing the finger! —
Traitor! Apollo
You, it is seen, at the same time;
And I pass pradons
From now destined.
trouble everywhere find you!
Alas, to me, metromanu,
Where I will hide me?
Traitors friends
innocent's creation
Sneak into the city send
And the fruit of solitude
stamping betray, —
paper kill!
poet surround
With a smile wits.
“Brother, sir! I was told,
You write poems;
See them not lzya Do?
You portrayed them,
Sure, rucheyky,
Sure, vasilechik,
Ile quiet veterochik,
and groves, and flowers ...”

About Delvig! drew
I Muses my destiny;
But you're my only weapon my sorrows
multiply wanted?
In the arms of Morpheus
Carefree spirit of cherishing,
Even though one year
Let me be lazy
And enjoy the bliss, —
I, right, bliss son!
And there, though there is no hunting,
But come really care
From all sides of me:
And I will be forced to
From magazines to fight,
With newspaper bargain,
With Grafova admire ...
Have mercy, Apollo!

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Alexander Pushkin
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