Gavrila Derzhavin
Invitation to supper

The borsch and clotted cream are waiting
And golden sturgeon I descry;
Champagne ice-cold and scintillating
And heady punch attract the eye;
Sweet perfumes on the air are wafted
And full of fruit are smiling baskets.
The servants hardly dare to breathe
Until the guests have found their places;
And keen to show her social graces
Is our fair hostess, I perceive.

So come, my longtime benefactor,
So kind to me these twenty years!
Come to my place! Though it be lacking
Carved oak and gold and chandeliers
Yet is it my sweet home, whose sweetness
Lies simply in good taste, its neatness
And my firm candid temperament.
Forget your worries, my advice is,
And, shunning all unwholesome spices,
Enjoy good food, wine, merriment.

Not men of rank or notoriety
But just good company have I
To my plain Russian board invited;
To which may he who vilifies
And harms me ever be a stranger.
So come, my philanthropic angel,
Fray come and savour these delights;
May hostile spirits shun our revels
And no ill-wishing diner ever
My threshold cross on supper nights!

It’s to my friends I am devoting
This day, to beauty and my friends;
Of worth I have a goodly notion,
I know our shadow life soon ends;
For barely have we left the cradle
Than old age comes to join our table
And Death into our garden peers;
Alas! Is it beyond our powers
To deck ourselves once more with flowers
And banish woeful sighs and tears?

Indeed, indeed I’ve heard the rumour:
A monarch too may grieve, they say,
Be ill at ease and out of humour
Though everybody him obey
And glory crown his royal presence.
Alas! Is power always pleasant
To those who pass their lives in care?
Here swift decline, there lies in plenty
He sees, poor fellow, like a sentry
Forever asking: “Who goes there?”

Therefore, before inclement weather
Begins to cloud these splendid days
And Fortune quits us altogether,
While she still smiles with kindly gaze,
Before sharp frosts the furrows harden,
While roses still perfume our garden
Let’s hurry to enjoy their scent.
So let us now, as best we’re able,
Enjoy life’s pleasures and at table
Have our due share of revetment.

Should you, however, or some others
Among the guests I call to dine,
Prefer gold palaces which offer
Rich sweetmeats of the royal kind,
And spurn my company at supper,
I beg you heed the truth I utter:
Not in reflected glory lies
Felicity, nor in rich flavours;
Sound health and peace of mind she favours,
The golden mean most satisfies.

Translated by Peter Tempest