Clouded over Petrograd
Autumn wind blew the clouds,
Breathed the damp coldness of the sky,
Neva roared. fought shaft
About marina promenade slim,
As the petitioner restless
On the door of referees. Rain window
He pounded sad. too dark
all became. At that time
Ivan Ezerskiй, my neighbour,
He entered his cramped office ...
However, w his family, and tribe,
I rank, and service, and year
You know no evil, gentlemen.


NaCN ab ovo:1 my Yezerskyy
It comes from those leaders,
Whose spirit of war, and brutal
It was drevle terror of the seas.
Odulʹf, his superior kind,
Velymi was ugly chieftain,
Says Sophia Chronograph.
When Olga his son Varlaf
Priya baptism him in Constantinople
From the hand of a Greek princess;
From these two sons born:
Jakub and Dorofei. In ambush
Jakub killed; and Dorofei
He begat twelve sons.


Ondrej, nicknamed Yezerskyy,
He begat Ivan da Ilia.
He Pechersk Lavra schema.
From here his name
vedutas lake. in turbot
One of them was caught up in a landfill,
And there crushed, how mosquito,
Will ask serious Tatars;
But with fame, even with the damage,
another Yezerskyy, Yelizar,
Bathed by the blood of the Tatars
Between Don and Nepryadva,
Hit from behind in a pile of
With his retinue Suzdal.


In our century old glory,
As in lean times,
Sedition and unrest in the days of bloody,
Ezerskih names shine.
They are in the army and in the council,
By voivodship and in response
They serve the princes and kings.
Of these Yezerskyy Varlaam
Pride famous Boyar:
During the dispute the same time he, then another
With great dishonor derive
He has been due to the royal meal,
But again came under the wrath of the terrible,
And he died, Sitsky reseeding.


When will the Duma majestic
Romanov hast taken his crown,
When a power peacefully
Russia finally rested,
And our vorogov resigned,
Then came Jizerské
The great power of the court.
When Emperor Peter ...
but sorry: articles can,
Reader, I have molested:
Our age is true you enlighten,
You are the pride of the nobility did not Eating,
And there is no need to do you any
Before your book generic ...


Who would neither was your ancestor,
Mstislav Udalыy, il Ermak,
Or Mytyushka Tselovalnyk,
You do not care - because certainly,
You despise fathers,
Their ancient glory, rights
Generous and mentally,
You have renounced them for a long time,
Direct enlightenment for the sake of,
Proud, Use as a general one,
At the cost of their own merit,
Star great-uncle,
Or an invitation to the ball
There, where your grandfather did not happen.


I myself - even in books and verbally
Cousins ​​me Troon -
I am a wimp, as you know,
In this sense, a Democrat.
but I confess: new Hodakovskiy.2
I love my grandmother Moscow
I hear talk of kin,
On the remote antiquity.
Mighty ancestral great-grandson of the poor,
I love to meet their names
In two or three lines Karamzin.
From this weakness friendly,
As he tried, - God knows, —
Break the habit I could not.


I'm sorry, so that the delivery boyars
Pale brilliance and spirit niknet.
I'm sorry, that there is no Prince Pozharsky,
What about the other missing and hearing,
That they defy jester Figlyarin,
That Russian windy Boyar
Loses kings letters,
As an old collection of calendars,
That historical sounds
We have become strangers, hot casual
From the bar, we climb into the tiers-etat,3
Though our grandchildren will be as poor,
And thank you for having us
Do not say, it seems, no one.


I'm sorry, what we, hired hand
Allowed to plunder their income,
The hard yoke caring dark
Eked out in the capital all year round,
We do not live semeyu friendly
In contentment, in silence dosuzhnoy,
Aging close relatives graves
In his ancestral estates,
Where in our mansion forgotten
Desert grass growing;
What heraldic lion
democratic hoof
We and kicking ass:
Spirit of the age that's gone somewhere!


That's why, archives digging,
I understand the dosuzhny hour
All pedigree hero,
About whom started his story,
Here offspring commanded.
Jezierski himself firmly in charge,
That his grandfather, great man,
I had fifteen thousand souls.
Of these, his father went to
Eighth part - and that full
It was first laid,
Then sold to a pawn shop ...
And he lived a salary
And he served as registrar.


Questioning disturbing muse,
With a smile my critic says:
"Where an enviable hero
elected you! Who is your hero?»
- What? collegiate registrar.
What you strict writer!
His sing - why no?
He is my friend and neighbor.
Derzhavin two of its neighbors
And the death of Meshchersky sung;
Singer Felitsa be able
Singer their weddings, their meals
And they buried, changed their feast,
Although this did not hesitate to peace.


notice me, that there is a difference
Between me and Derzhavins,
That beauty and ugliness
Separate feature one,
That Prince Meshchersky was Senator,
Instead of collegiate registrar -
What's better, if the poet
Take the sublime object,
that there is, in addition, translation
direct heroes; what they
It is not a miracle today;
Or I'm not of this parish?
Or is it between my friends
two, three great no people?


Why wind revolves in a ravine,
Sheet lifts and carries dust,
When the ship is motionless moisture
His breath eagerly waiting?
Why the mountains and past the towers
flying eagle, severities and scary,
On the black stump? ask him.
Why arap his
Mlada loves Desdemona,
As the month of love mist night?
Then, that the wind and the eagle
And the heart of the Virgin there is no law.
be proud: so is you, poet,
And you do not have the conditions for.


Full of thoughts Zlata,
Not understood by anyone,
Before the crossroads of the earth
you pass, It is sad and.
With the crowd not delish you either anger,
neither needs, our Hohhot, we roar,
neither surprise, or labor.
fool shouts: where? where?
The road here. But you do not hear,
going, where you involve
secret dreams; your work
you award; they're breathing,
And throw the fruit you
the crowd, slave girl fuss.


Tell: What a nonsense, il bravo,
Or do not say anything -
I'm standing in the - I was right
Elect of my neighbor
The heroes of the story of humble,
Though he was not a military man,
Do not second-class Don Juan,
Not a demon - not even the Gypsies,
A simple citizen of the capital,
Any encounter everywhere darkness,
Either in person, not by the mind
From our brother is not great,
Quite docile and easy,
And yet, small business.

1832-1833 years.

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Alexander Pushkin
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