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.
«Halls grew darker and somehow faded. / Grates of windows drowned in black. / Every knight, every beautiful lady / Knew the tiding: "The Queen's deadly sick." And the king, very silent and frowned, / Passed the doors, lost of pages and slaves... / Every word, that by chance cast around,...»
«Here we live in ancient chambers / By the water strings. / Here at spring the gladness rambles, / And the river sings. As the gaiety's first message, / With the first spring gales, / There will pour the blazing azure / In the doors of cells. And quite full of sacred shudder / Of the...»
«He, who was born in stagnant year / Does not remember own way. / We, kids of Russia's years of fear, / Remember every night and day. Years that burned everything to ashes! / Do you bring madness or grace? / The war's and freedom's fire flashes / Left bloody light on every face. We are...»
«I’m Hamlet now. Freezes blood, / When the perfidy waves laces, / While love is first — and lives in heart / For her — the one in times and spaces. Ophelia, my dear friend, / You got away by cold fierce, / And, Prince, I’m dying in my land, / With poisoned swords in fighting pie»