Lo, my prophetic dreams are very truth at last:
France bows to Russia's might and Europe is laid low.
The glory we may claim no nation yet surpassed!
The gift of peace 'tis in our power to bestow.
Be the Greek Alexander renowned as great in war,
But who brings peace on earth, his soul is greater far!
Сбылись моих надежд пророчественны силы:
Россия Францию, а с ней Европу победила.
На верх какой теперь мы славы взнесены!
Спокойство может дать вселенной наша сила.
Пусть Греций Александр велик слывет войной;
Но мир кто умирит – тот более душой!
«Be silent, I beg, don’t dare to wake me. / In this criminal and shameful century / Not to live, not to feel – an enviable fate. / Sleep in joy and with greater joy be stone.»
«Russia cannot be known by the mind / Nor measured by the common mile: / Her status is unique, without kind – / Russia can only be believed in.»
«Throughout blue nights / glisten mountains’ eyes, / eyes of death, eyes of fright, / by icy horror paralysed. / Charmed by some spell / till Dawn’s first beams, / in hazy menace they dream, / like all those ancient kings who fell. But let the East begin to shine / and th...»
«Skald-harp, long ago your poet-master / left you to oblivion in this dusty room, / but as soon as the moon, enchanting the gloom, / splashes a ray in your corner, / then your strings perform a magic tune, / like troubled souls in delirious swoon. When it breathes on you, what life sw...»