"Alexander Pushkin in english translation" - читать интересную книгу автора

Her mellow wit will not abide
To energize our conversations
And with her soul, she won't subside
The sufferer's lamentations.
I hurry, still distraught in thought,
Concealing all of my dejection,
To catch her every cheerful word
And to delight in her perfection.
I watch her move, with admiration,
Perceive each sound from her soul
From every moment's separation
My tender heart becomes appalled.
***
Oh blazing Muse of pure satire!
Come forth on my inviting call!
I do not need the blatant lyre,
Give me the scourge of Juvenal!
And neither lifeless imitators
Nor hungry, gluttonous translators,
Nor rhymesters who don't relate,
With epigrams shall I abate!
Peace to the poets, poor creators,
Peace to the journal's adulators,
Peace to the fools who have been tamed!
But rascals, you I'll put to shame,-
Come forth you villains, don't resist!
And everyone I'll punished then
But if by chance one I shall miss,
Please do remind me, gentlemen!
How many faces - shameless-pale,
How many forehands - dull and stale,
From me are ready to acquire
The timeless imprint of my lyre!
Verses, composed during a night of insomnia...
I can't sleep, the light is out;
Chasing senseless dreams in gloom.
Clocks at once, inside my room,
Somewhere next to me, resound.
Parcae's soft and mild chatter,
Sleeping twilight's noisy flutter,
Life's commotion - so insane..
Why am I to feel this pain?
What's your meaning, boring mumble?
Disapproving, do you grumble
Of the day I spent in vain?
What has made you so compelling?
Are you calling or foretelling?
I just want to understand,
Thus I'm seeking your intent...
Winter morning