Fyodor Tyutchev
When waning strength of soul and body...

When waning strength of soul and body
Does hint that our fate is sealed,
And we, old-timers, must be ready
Our kingdom to new-comers yield, —

Then kindly spare us, o good genius,
The craven, cowardly reproach,
The slander, and the spite continuous
At our life’s decrepit coach;

The rancour, and the smouldering anger
Against the renovating world
Where young ones with a dexterous finger
Unfurl their wings when ours are furled;

The bilious sense and jealous fears
That we’re behind, to say the least,
That there are other banqueteers,
That other guests are called to feast;

All, that the more is perky ever,
The longer kept in heart’s deep cove, —
The peevish, grumpy senile fervour
Is greater shame than senile love.

Translated by Alexander Pokidov