Let the moody rifmotvor,
Povit poppy and nettles,
Cold odes creator zealous,
On a boring way weaving nonsense,
General calls for dinner, —
At Galich, faithful friend glass
And fatty morning peers,
you call, sage lazy,
The shelter poetry happy,
Under the shelter distant bliss.
It has long been in my solitude,
In a circle of friends and bottles,
Not mature societies we your,
Girlfriends many pleasures,
Jokes and laughter guests.
In your work there is no hunt.
Sit down on the three evil horses,
Leave Petropol and care,
Fly in a happy town.
Come to the Jew Zolotarev,
In his, all common, corner;
we are there, sobravshisya in a circle,
Strait wine jet Bagrov,
And with the thunder of the door of the castle
Ban gay young.
And proud on the cake table
Friends cramped rows,
Flashing light knives,
S Tobo boldly Osada
And instantly the wall smash;
when will, weighed down with wine,
With the head, knees bowed,
Want the world to relax
AND, sinking into the pillow,
In order to get a good sleep,
Done poured a mug
The old velvet sofa, —
Then the message, couplets,
ballads, Basenko, sonnets
Leave our humble pocket,
And strong sleep sloth is!..
But the glasses clink you wake,
You jumped with vigorous head,
Leave a crumpled pillow,
Podymesh pretty girlfriend -
And in his cell feast again.
At Galich, time irrevocably,
And close, close to the hour of danger,
When, You will hear the voice of Fame,
Leave blood cells pleasant,
Tatar will cast his robe.
Sorry, virgin Muses!
forgive, Shelter mladyh Otrado!
Wear tight leggings,
Zavyu in ringlets proud mustache,
Zableschet pair of epaulettes,
And I - pet important Moose -
Among the warring Cornets!
At Galich, Galich! Haste!
Your name and lazy dream,
And no one humble, or arrogant,
And a cup full over the edge!
