beauty, which snuff

perhaps l? instead of roses, Cupid plantations,
[Tulips proudly inclined,]
fragrant lilies of the valley, Yasmine, and Lily,
[That you always] I loved
[Above all day] carried
On your marble chest
perhaps l, cute Klimena,
What a strange change in taste!..
Do you like to smell not a morning flower,
A vrednuû grass green,
art of making
The fluffy powder! —
Let already grizzled professor of Goettingen,
In the old Department of bent arc,
Staring in deep latinschinu your mind,
have a fit of coughing, tobacco pounded
He shoves a long nose withered hand;
Let Mlada dragoons mustachioed
[in the morning, sitting at the] window,
With the remainder of the morning sleep,
Of smoke meerschaum pipe chases gray;
Let the beauty of sixty years,
In Graces on leave, and love in retirement,
Which kept all the charm of the stand,
Which no wrinkles on the body there is no place,
slander, prays, yawns
And true sadness tobacco forget, —
And you, lovely!.. but if tobacco
So whether you like - on the ardor of imagination! —
Brother! if a, turned to dust,
In tabakerke, in zatochenyi,
I am your gentle fingers could get caught,
Then b in the heart of admiration
Scattered on the chest under the silk scarf
And even ... may be ... But what! an empty dream.
It will not be this way.
The fate of the envious, evil!
Brother, why am I not tobacco!..

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Alexander Pushkin
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