Он пел поблеклый жизни цвет
Без малого в осьмнадцать лет.
IX
Regret, deep sorrow, indignation
And for the glory honey craving
Alike stirred his blood agitation,
Since young enkindled his soul flaming.
He wandered in the world with lyre
Under the Schiller-Goethe’s sky;
And their creative Muses’ blaze
Had brought his soul into amaze.
The elevated Muses’ lyrics
He, being lucky man, maintained,
And in his songs with pride retained
The always lofty noble feelings,
The impulses of virgin dream
And charming ease in high esteem.
X
He song the love to love devoted,
His lyric tongue was pure and bright,
Like dreams a virgin openhearted,
Like sleeps a newborn, like at night
The Luna in the sky is shining,
Goddess of mystery and sighing.
He song sad parting and deplored
An obscured something in remote.
Romantic roses glorifying
He song the countries far away,
Where being in a dream one day
He shed the alive tears in quiet;
He song the withered being cold
And was not, yet, eighteen years old.
XI
В пустыне, где один Евгений
Мог оценить его дары,
Господ соседственных селений
Ему не нравились пиры;
Бежал он их беседы шумной.
Их разговор благоразумный
О сенокосе, о вине,
О псарне, о своей родне,
Конечно, не блистал ни чувством,
Ни поэтическим огнем,
Ни остротою, ни умом,
Ни общежития искусством;
Но разговор их милых жен
Гораздо меньше был умен.
XII
Богат, хорош собою, Ленской
Везде был принят как жених;