Epistle to Yudin

Do you want, Dear friend, discover
My dreams, desires, goals
And a quiet voice of a simple pipe
With a smile Commonwealth heed.
But you can only weapon agility poet,
Slave dreams Mlada,
In the picture fast and lively
In order to portray the world
everything, that in his youth the golden
Imagination seems to me?

Now, when at rest laziness,
Having covered me in the wilderness canopy,
His feelings chain knits,
And my age is quiet, as a clear day,
Empty bliss ornaments
Without seeing in my hut,
I looked with a smile of regret
On the splendor of the poor rich
AND, happy with himself,
Nor a thirst for silver mountain,
I do not know tomorrow, our yesterday,
Satisfactory across modest Fate
And thinking: “What singers
diamonds, ruby, topazes,
Porphyry empty vase,
Drago dolls in the corners?
What they shelved Albion
And lush covers Lyon
On fashionable chairs and tables,
And Shalev bed in bedroom?
Is not it better in a village far,
Or in a humble town,
away capitals, care and thunder,
To take refuge in a peaceful corner,
With luxury that is unfamiliar,
Where you can relax in holiday!”
ABOUT, if ever
Come true poet snovidenya!
Can it be true solitude OTRADA
He was not destined to eat?
I see my The village in,
my Zakharovo; that
With a fence in the river undulating
On the bridge and shady grove
Mirror reflections water.
My house on the hill: from the balcony
I can get in a cheerful garden,
Where together Flora and Pomona
Flowers with fruits give me,
Where the old maples dark series
Rises up to the sky,
And dull poplars rustle -
To dawn haste
From humble spade in his hands,
In the meadows the path meanders,
I water the tulip and the rose -
And I am happy in the morning works:
Here under a tree tilted,
With Horace and Lafontaine
In pleasant dreams immersed.
Near the creek roars and jumps,
And racing in wet shores,
And light current annoyance hides
In neighboring groves and meadows. —
But now it's already noon. - In a bright room
Fun round table is set;
Bread-salt in pure coverlet,
they smoke soup, wine goblet,
And the pike lies in skaterti.
Neighbors noisy crowds
Arrived, break the silence,
sit down; child vnimaem Janna:
All praise Bacchus and Pomona
And with them red spring ...

Here secluded office,
Where I am, Muscovy weary,
Away deceptive beauty,
Away frowning worries
And that sly enchantress,
That the whole world revolves,
The tube ceaselessly rattles,
And - I remember - it's called Glory -
I live with a natural ease,
With philosophical fun
And muse frisky and young ...
Here is my fireplace - in the evening dark,
Autumn stormy times,
I love secretly in a pavilion secluded
Before him wistfully dreaming,
“Voltaire, Wieland read,
Or in moments of inspiration
Nebrejno stations namarat
And then burn your creations ...
Here ... but quickly ghosts,
Rodyas in a magic lantern,
On white linen flash;
dreams are, disappear,
Like a shadow in the morning dawn. —
Meanwhile,, in the silent cell
In captivity, I gave to dreams,
Hand careless and lazy
Scatter rhymes here and there,
I hear the tramp, I hear a neigh. —
Flashing patterned saddle cloth,
In a brilliant radiance Menten
Hussar raced under the window ...
And where are you, peace pictures
Charming rural simplicity?
Among militant Valley
Noshus wings I dream,
Outbreaks in becoming dogoraюt;
Limits are, wrapped in a cloak,
With gray, whiskered Cossack
Lie - away bayonets glinting,
dashing neigh, reins bite,
And the occasional rumble of thunder,
Flying high with a peal ...
Trembles abuse my chest,
When splendor pejorative Bulat,
Fire burning eyes, - and I
I'm flying to the death of an adversary. —
My horse into the ranks of the enemies of the eagle
Rushing with a formidable rider -
With amplitude spilling kicks.
About you, paternal Lara,
Save the boy in battle!
There he is whistling saber toothed,
There Shako zybletsya feathered;
With Circassian cloak on his shoulders,
And silently kneeled to mane,
He rushes arrow on a slippery field,
With tsygarroy smoky in the teeth ...

But the laurels of victory twined,
Fighters from the World cup drink.
Military glory forgotten,
I hasten to his humble shelter;
When he had found on the battlefield and honor
some diseases, crutches,
On century left sablyu moved ...
Oh, I see in the twilight gave
My cramped lodge, dark grove,
wicket, garden, near the pond,
And me again, philosopher humble,
I took refuge in a shelter cute
AND, forgetting the world and they oblivion,
Peace of mind to eat of the newly ...

Tell, of heart invaluable friend,
L dream and friendship and love?
Hitherto carefree playfulness in
Brel in my days rozam;
The innocent heart clarity
I did not know the torment of love,
But quickly sped away, day after day
Where childhood earliest traces?
Adorable age Passing
First flowers have withered!
My heart beats with joy
When soap and video motыlka,
In the air and circling winds
Breathing soft breeze,
And in a strange anxiety
dust, tleyu, blood burns,
And yet the language, heart intelligible,
About the tender passion says ...
A friend of the golden age,
Red childhood friend,
Do you see, the gaze of light,
heart each, Darling <Сушкова>?
with me all your image,
Everywhere with the ghost of my dear:
In the darkness of midnight dreary,
In the morning: a gold watch.
Then at the end of a dark alley
evening, quiet ferry,
one, in languid reverie,
I see you before a,
Your shawl camp not pokrovenny,
your eyes, on the chest downcast,
The cheeks blushing the color of love.
Everything is quiet; brezhzhet moonlight;
Frowning poplar moves,
Already the twilight dim veil
On the distant hills lies,
And curtains groves flows
Sleeping quietly on-wave,
Oserebrennoyu moon.
You are one in a grove with me,
On my crutches leaning,
Stoysh thick pod yvoyu,
I wind sumrakov, sporting,
On the snowy chest blows cool,
He plays curl Vlasov
And slender leg draws
Through the snow-white cover thee ...
The deep midnight hour,
Previous Terem your high,
Winter gloomy times,
I'm waiting for a beautiful woman, dragging -
Prepare sleighs; thick gloom;
all sleeping, only one I yearn,
Call lazy hours fight ...
And rustle fancies deaf,
And that's really sweet whisper I hear, —
From the porch lovely gone,
Barely breathing; It comes stealthily,
And the maiden hugged each other.
raced horses, set off into the distance,
Mane in the wind blossomed,
They ride in a snow depth,
You clung shyly to me,
Barely breathing; we were stupefied,
Underwhelming feeling numb ...
But what! of dream flew!
Alas! I was happy in a dream ...

In a welcome silence of the Muses
Just the sound of the flute,
a friend of mine, I sang for you
dream, youthful singers inheritance.
Pet Moose and inspiration,
Aspiring Fantasy vosled,
Located in the heart of delight
And in the way of impending troubles.
Minutes golden happiness
Let me not Kloof sovet;
In the dreams of all the joy of the earth!
Destiny vsemoschnee poet.

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Alexander Pushkin
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