When a poet in his ecstasy
You read his ode or her bouquet,

When a storyteller traоne his sentence,

When you listen to a parrot,
Not finding a joke,
On dort, in his handkerchief there yawns,
Waiting for the moment to say:
Until the pleasure to meet again.
But head-а-tete with his beautiful,
Or with like minded people,
True happiness is renewed,
We are happy, they sing, on rit.
Extend your peaceful vigils,
And sing late at night

To your friends, AVOS bottles:

Until the pleasure to meet again.
Friends, life is a passage
And everything flows with time,
Love also is a fickle,
A bird of our spring;
Too soon it flees, chuckling -
This is forever, Hope farewell!
It does not say when it escapes:
Until the pleasure to meet again.
Time runs away sad and barbaric
And sooner or later we are going there hout.
Often - if not so rare -
Chance saves us from the grave.
Sore depart cohorts
And the horrible and black skeleton

Goes has other striking doors:

Until the pleasure to meet again.
But what? I feel like I get tired
In wearying my dear listeners,
Come, I descend from Parnassus -
It is not for singers,
For couplets lights my fire,
On a refrain I have power,
It is enough - goodbye, my feather!
Until the pleasure to meet again.



When the poet excited
I read you my ode poems or greeting,
When the narrator pulls phrase,
When you are listening to a parrot,
not finding, what a laugh, —
fall asleep, yawn in a scarf,
wait a minute, when you can tell:
"Until a pleasant goodbye".

But alone with his beautiful,
Or among the smart people,
True happiness comes alive,
can be quite, laughing, eat.
Long your peaceful vigil
And sing at the end of the evening
your friends, your bottles:
"Until a pleasant goodbye".

Friends, life is fleeting,
And all floats along with the time.
Love, too, flyer,
Bird our spring.
Too soon it disappears, laughing furtively,
And for good - bye Hope,
When she uporhnet, can not say more:
"Until a pleasant goodbye".

Time is running out, sad and cruel, —
And sooner or later despatch.
Sometimes - it is not uncommon -
Case saves us from the grave,
Deleted hordes of suffering,
And a terrible black skeleton
Goes to knock on other doors:
"Until a pleasant goodbye".

But what? I feel, that tired,
Tiring of my dear listeners.
Good, I descend from Parnassus,
It is not created for singers.
I am inspired by the verses.
I have power over the refrain.
Pretty - goodbye, pen!
"Until a pleasant goodbye".

( No ratings yet )
Share with your friends:
Alexander Pushkin
Leave your comment 👇