Fears, jeers, tears
And all that caper
Aren't worth the ink
Aren't worth the paper.
Blots and smears
Aren’t worth the ink
Nor what gives off
A moral stink.
Go and write odes
Where «liberty»
Lamely rhymes
With «brotherly».
Go and write ballads
Where words like «dinner»
Rhyme perfectly
With words like «winner».
Your talents
I will always heed
And your ballads
Will always read.
Грехи и огрехи,
Враги и овраги
Не стоят чернила,
Не стоят бумаги,
Не стоит чернила
Все то, что чернило,
Все то, что моральный
Ущерб причинило.
Пишите-ка оды,
Где слово «народы»
Неточно рифмуют
Со словом «свободы».
Пишите баллады,
Где слово «победы»
Прекрасно рифмуют
Со словом «обеды».
Я ваши таланты
Весьма почитаю
И ваши баллады
Всегда прочитаю.
«I go out alone on the flint road / In the deep mist glimmering afar. / Silent night... The desert hears to God / And the star is speaking to the star. All the skies are beautiful and solemn. / Earth is sleeping in the glow of blue. / Why it is so hard? Am I regretting? / Or maybe I drea...»
«I am so sad because I worship you, / I know: that your flourishing youth / Will not be spared by the gossip's persecution. / For every sunny day or bit of sweet illusion / You'll pay the fate with tears and your pine. / I'm sad... 'cause you're so gay and fine.»
«When, in the cornfield, yellow waves are rising, / The wood is rustling at the sound of soft wind, / And, in the garden, crimson plums are hiding / In pleasant shade of leaves, so shining ones and green; When, spilled with fragrant dew in calmness of the alley, / In morning of a gold or eve...»
«We stood in the ranks — as a mute crowd, once, / While putting our friend to a ground, / Heard our chaplain's murmur and, by chance, / The roar of a tempest around. / The shakos sparkled over the sacred abode, / Immovable ones in a cloud, / With a...»