Let, not znayas Apollo,
Poet, court philosopher,
Noble lords with a bow
Submit leave the dvesti strof;
But I, dear Gorchakov,
I do not wake up with the roosters,
And pompous verses,
Gromozvuchnyh set of words,
I do not know how to sing empty
High, subtly and cunningly,
And do not dare turn the lira
My - goose feather!
Not, not, dear Prince, do not go
You intend to devote;
What came to be put into the water,
Initially did not demand ford,
And next Derzhavin float?
I am writing to your warehouse now
Koi-like poetry to a birthday party.
What should I, tell, in present time
Ask for from a pure heart to a friend?
Hluboka eh old age, dear prince,
children, amiable wife,
or wealth, loud days,
crosses, diamond stars, honor?
Do not wish, to glory
You are fascinated by the way was a bloody,
To get to the laurels and crowns shone,
To get to the battle thunder from the hands of metal,
And to win for thee,
As of old Nevsky hero,
Is always, I flew everywhere after?
Do not lust poet
Such was a song greeting,
He is the best music ever leave!
Give love God, to you his life
Pet gentle Epicurus
Held between Bacchus and Cupid!
And there - when Stygian Breg
Flicker in the dim remoteness,
Give god, so in a passionate rapture,
You're with a languid sweetness in the sight,
Iz ruk young Cupid
Entering the gloomy choln Charon,
I fell asleep on his chest ... Ershova!
