Turgenev, loyal patron
priest's, Jews and eunuchs,
But all too happy persecutor
And ezuitov, and glupcov,
And my laziness sterile,
Always carefree and free,
Girlfriends beneficial dreams!
Why laugh at me,
When I am weak hand
Lyre thrilled wander
Only effeminate sounds
love, This sweet heart flour,
In unvoiced find strings?
Soul surrendering Delights,
I'm sweet, sweet doze off.
One only you with deep laziness
By the combined works of hunting;
Alone you, passionate lover
And Solomirskoy, and cross,1
That night jump with an excellent,
Then you preach Christ. —
At weddings and in the Bible Hall,
Among the fun and concerns,
Luna's Ronæs the bale,
Podemlesh trembling orphans;
Cute sloth on Parnassus,
Forgetting love their grief,
With a smile, doze in Arzamas
And sleep at Count de Laval;
Wearing painful burden
Empty il serious posts,
One only do you find time
Laugh my laziness.
Do not you call me Bole
For ever left the works.
Nor poetic captivity,
Nor treated verses.
What needs, if an error
And sometimes I sing poorly?
Let Nineth only smile
I love my carefree
Ignite and calm!
A labor and cold and empty:
The poem should never
Smile voluptuous lips.
