By Ogareva, which he sent Metropolitan fruits from his garden

metropolitan, hvastun besstıdnıy,
You sent svoyh fruit,
I wanted to assure us, as seen,
That he himself was a god of their gardens.

Perhaps all you - Harith
Smile senility win,
From the mind will bring Metropolitan
And the ardor of desire in him shall bear.

And he, Your eyes met magic,
Forget about your cross
And gently will sing prayers
Your heavenly beauty.

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Alexander Pushkin
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