each Delvig, I parnassian my brother,
Your prose, I was comforted,
but I confess, baron, January wrong:
Verses I no longer would be happy.
You know yourself: In years past,
I am on the banks of water Parnassian
I loved to dirty poems, ode,
Even mature people I
On the Puppet Theater mode.
used to, that no write,
All for no other smells;
About censorship than any request,
From all T<имковский> ahnet.
Now, barely, barely breathing!
Refraining from Muse withers,
And rarely, rarely sin with her.
By unfaithful Glory I hlada;
And the habit of only one
Lazily making love to her.
As the husband of a proud wife.
I forgot her vows,
One freedom is my idol,
But all love, my poets?,
Happy voice your lire.
Sure, forgetting today
Mladosti his leprosy,
He looks with a smile your matchmaker
Tricks on young b<– >.
