Surly caretaker Moose, my longtime persecutor,
Today I planned to talk with you.
Do not be afraid: I do not want, seduced by the false idea,
Blaspheme blasphemy censorship careless;
What You Need to London, sooner to Moscow.
Our writers, I know, what:
Their thoughts are not encroaching censorship violence,
And pure soul before you right.
Firstly, I confess to you sincerely,
Often I feel sorry about your destiny:
The human nonsense sworn interpreter,
Khvostov, Bunin only reader,
You're always obliged to disassemble for the sins
The prose stupid, silly poems.
Russian authors difficult vex:
Who are the British love affair with the French ultimately offer,
Compose the ode, sweating to kryahtya,
Другой трагедию напишет нам шутя —
Before them we do not care: as you read, besysya,
yawn, hundred times to go to sleep - and then subscribe.
So, censor martyr: sometimes he wants
Mind Reading refresh; Rousseau, Voltaire, Bjufon,
Derzhavin, Karamzin beckon his desire,
A fruitless must devote attention
On the new ravings of a liar,
Singing which groves and leisure fields,
Yes, the loss of connection to them, look for it from the beginning,
Or black out of a skinny log
Taunts rude and obscene language,
Courtesy wits intricate tribute.
But the censor citizen, san and his sacred:
He must have a direct mind and enlightened;
He used to read the heart of the altar and throne;
But opinions are not crowded and the mind suffers it.
guardian of peace, decency and morals,
Do not transgress itself inscribed Charter,
law devotee, country loving,
He is able to take responsibility themselves:
Truth useful way not muzzle,
Live sporting poetry does not prevent.
He is another writer, before not to know trusliv,
prudent, TVE, free, fair.
And you, fool and an earthquake, what are you doing with us?
Where should b philosophize, you clap eyes;
Not understanding us, Mara and Deresh;
You're black white on a whim are calling;
satire libel, poetry debauchery,
The voice of truth rebellion, Kunitsyn Marat.
I decided, and then go and, even ask at you.
Tell: Do not be ashamed, that Holy Russia,
thanks to you, hitherto not see books?
And when it comes to think about the fact,
the, Russian glory and sanity loving,
Emperor himself commands to print without you.
Left us verses: poem, triolet,
ballads, Basenko, elegies, couplets,
Leisure and innocent dreams of love,
Imagination minute flowers.
About barbarian! who of us, Russian owners lira,
I do not curse your fatal ax?
Tiresome eunuch you wander between Moose;
No sense of fervent, no shine mind, any taste,
No style singer Pirov, so clean, благородный —
Nothing touches your soul cold.
On everything you throw oblique, a wrong view.
knowing all, around you see the poison.
Leave, perhaps, labor, nothing less is not commendable:
Parnassos no monastery and no harem sad.
And never the right skilled farrier
Excessive ardor Pegasus did not deprive.
What you fear? believe me, чьи забавы —
ridicule Act, Government il manners,
He will not be subject to your foreclosure;
He does not know you, мы знаем почему —
And his manuscript, without dying in the summer,
Unsigned your walks in the light of.
Barkov witty odes you have not sent,
Radishchev, slavery enemy, escaped censorship,
And Pushkin's poems in print did not happen;
What needs? and so they read other.
But you're talking about your, and our wise age
Hardly Shalikov not harmful man.
For what we torment ourselves and for no reason?
Tell, читал ли ты Наказ Екатерины?
Read, understand it; see clearly in it
their duty, their rights, otherwise go through.
In the eyes of the monarch excellent satirist
Ignorance is executed in the comedy folk,
At least in the narrow head of the court fool
Kuteikin Christ two equal persons.
Derzhavin, scourge of nobles, at the sound of the lyre formidable
Their proud denounced idols;
Chemnitzer Truth said with a smile,
Foxglove darling dvusmыslenno shutyl,
Киприду иногда являл без покрывала —
And none of them does not interfere with censorship.
What did you frown; confess, nowadays
Are you not so easily used to cut them?
Who is to blame? before you Mirror:
Days of Alexander's great start.
Proveday, that made the print in those days.
On the field of the mind, We can not deviate.
Old stupidity we are rightly ashamed,
Shall those years, we turn again,
When no one dared call the Fatherland,
And a slave crawling and people, and printing?
No, not! it has passed, devastating time,
When Ignorance was carrying the burden of Russia.
Where glorious Karamzin earned him the crown,
There's a censor can not be a fool ...
Correct Well: Be Smart and reconcile us.
“all true, – скажешь ты, – не стану спорить с вами:
But l can censor of conscience to judge?
I need something that, then this spare.
Sure, you're funny - and I often cry,
I read so baptized, мараю на удачу —
At all is fashion, taste; happened, example,
We have a great honor Bentham, Rousseau, Voltaire,
And now and Milot caught in our nets.
I have not; To that wife and children ...”
Wife and kids, friend, believe me - a great evil:
They are all bad, we happened.
But there is nothing: so if you can not
You quickly get out of home care,
And services you need for your king,
Though clever take yourself Secretary.
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