What's friendship? The hangover's faction,
The gratis talk of outrage,
Exchange by vanity, inaction,
Or bitter shame of patronage.
On Count Voronstov
One half Milord, one half in trade,
One half a sage, one half a dunce,
One half a crook, but here for once
There's every hope he'll make the grade.
Impromtu On Ogareva
Before you, silently I sway.
I feel so anxious when you’re near me,
In vain, I cast a glance your way:
I’m sure that I will never say,
What I’m imagining so freely.
The Last Flower
Rich the first flower's graces be,
But dearer far the last to me;
My spirit feels renewal sweet,
Of all my dreams hope or desire--
The hours of parting oft inspire
More than the moments when we meet!
Under A Portrait Of Jukowsky
The charm and sweetness of his magic verse
Will mock the envious years for centuries!
Since youth, on hearing them, for glory burns,
The wordless sorrow comfort in them sees,
And careless joy to wistful musing turns.
Lily, Lily! I am sighing
With despair and hopeless woe.
I’m tormented and I’m dying,
And my soul has lost its glow,
But my love evoked no pity:
You consider me pathetic.
Keep on laughing: you are pretty
Even when unsympathetic.
A Little Bird
In alien lands I keep the body
Of ancient native rites and things:
I gladly free a little birdie
At celebration of the spring.
I'm now free for consolation,
And thankful to almighty Lord:
At least, to one of his creations
I've given freedom in this world!
Thou and You
She substituted, by a chance,
For empty 'you' - the gentle 'thou';
And all my happy dreams, at once,
In loving heart again resound.
In bliss and silence do I stay,
Unable to maintain my role:
'Oh, how sweet you are!' I say -
'How I love thee!' says my soul.
Upon The Hills Of Georgia
Dark falls upon the hills of Georgia,
I hear Aragva's roar.
I'm sad and light, my grief - transparent,
My sorrow is suffused with you,
With you, with you alone...My melancholy
Remains untouched and undisturbed,
And once again my heart ignites and loves
Because it can't do otherwise.
To My Friends
The chain of golden days and nights
Is still your heritage from Deity,
And, still, the languid maidens’ eyes
Are turned to you as well intently.
So, play and sing, friends of my years!
Lose very quickly passing evening,
And, at your heedless joy and singing,
I will be smiling through my tears.