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Слушать(AI)To My Friends
The chain of golden days and
Is still your heritage from Deity,
And, still, the languid maidens’
Are turned to you as well intently.
So, play and sing, friends of my years!
Lose very quickly passing evening,
And, at your heedless joy and singing,
I will be smiling through my tears.
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin was a Russian poet, playwright, and novelist of the Romantic era who is considered by many to be the greatest Russ
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The Poet
Until he hears Apollo's call To make a hallowed sacrifice, A Poet lives in feeble thrall To people's empty vanities; And silent is his sacred lyre, His soul partakes of chilly sleep,
Muse
In my youth's years, she loved me, I am sure The flute of seven pipes she gave in my And harked to me with smile — without speed,
The Wish
I shed my tears; my tears – my consolation; And I am silent; my murmur is dead, My soul, sunk in a depression’s shade, Hides in its depths the bitter exultation
The Delibash
With the hostile camp in skirmish Our men once were changing shot, Pranced the Delibash his charger 'Fore our ranks of Cossacks hot Trifle not with free-born Cossacks Nor too o'er foolhardy be
