For recovery of Lucullus. imitation Latin

you're fading, rich Mlada!
You heard weeping friends sad.
Oh Death is watching you
At the door, the porch of your crystal.
It, how vtershiysya morning
Lender patient,
Sticking the front silent,
I do not touch the carpet.

In your room pomerkshey
Doctors gloomy whispering.
your freeloaders, Circe
Embarrassed face clouded;
Sighed faithful servants
And because of you prayed to the gods,
Not knowing at bay, that promised
They are secret destiny.

Meanwhile, your heir,
Like carrion crows to avid,
Pale and trembling over you,
Shivering acquiring fever.
Already stingy its sealing wax
Sully locks your office;
And he fancied rake golden mountains
The piles of paper dust.

he fancied: “Oh Now in nobles
I will not nyanchit children;
I myself will therefore lord;
In the basements, good, there is a surplus.
Now I'm honest - Trin-grass!
Wife will not cheat,
And to steal already forget
State-owned wood!”

But you raised. Your friends,
In the palm of your hand clapping cheer;
Slaves like a good family
Each other in joy kiss;
peppy doctor, raising glasses;
Master deathly gaze tends;
And with it the bailiff drives
Heir to shocks.

So you returned to life
With all the charm of his;
Look: priceless gift she;
Know how to use it well;
Decorate it; , the fly,
It's time! Enter in your palaces
Beautiful wife - and the gods
Bless your marriage.

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Alexander Pushkin
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