Who would send me a picture of her,
Features beautiful sorceress
Passionate admirer of talent,
I was her first poet.
With vexation, may be, unjust:
When one in the censer smoke
Beauty shone glory,
I whistled hymns drowned.
Perish anger a single moment,
Perish the false lyre:
she Vinovna, Dear friend,
Before Selimenoy and Moinoy.
So frivolous soul,
Oh Gods! you defy death:
But soon the trembling hand
You new sacrifices.
