Ode LVI (from Anacreon)

serial, gray
curls, honor of my,
The teeth in the gums weakened,
And the fire was extinguished eyes.
Sweet life I bit
Escort days left:
Park by leading them to strictly,
Tartar shadows waiting for my.
Not resurrected from under the bushel,
Everyone there forever forgotten:
Entrance to all open -
No outcome from there.

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Alexander Pushkin
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