Fyodor Tyutchev
When our vigor is descending...

When our vigor is descending,
And strength beginning to decay,
We must, like temporary tenants,
For new arrivals clear the way.

Then save us, our guardian angel,
From harsh reproofs and petty fuss,
From calumny against the changes
The future has in store for us.

Let us not harbor secret hatred
Of novelty; nor come to strife
With the newcomers, who have waited
For joyous feasts of transient life.

Protect us from the bitter insight
That we are about to concede
Our place, retreating to the sidelines
For others now will take the lead.

Let us not yield to the emotions
That we would cautiously conceal:
There is less shame in senile passion
Than in contentious senile zeal.

Translated by Olga Dumer