entertained his soul by dreaming
To pacify the mind’s doubt,
And could not stop to think about
The purpose of the human being.
That was the thing that racked his brains,
And he perceived the magic tales.
VIII
And he believed, there is a soul,
Which’s of a similar communion,
And languishing it’s searching for
The one with whom would make a union.
And he believed that he had friends,
Who’d accept for his honor chains,
And non of them would ever waver
To smash a vessel of a slander;
That there are chosen by the fortune
The people’s sacramental friends,
Sometimes they’ll get the magic brands
And save humanity from tortures;
The world will stay in pleasant tranquil,
And people will be for that thankful.
IX
Негодованье, сожаленье,
Ко благу чистая любовь
И славы сладкое мученье
В нем рано волновали кровь.
Он с лирой странствовал на свете;
Под небом Шиллера и Гете
Их поэтическим огнем
Душа воспламенилаcь в нем.
И Муз возвышенных искусства,
Счастливец, он не постыдил;
Он в песнях гордо сохранил
Всегда возвышенные чувства,
Порывы девственной мечты
И прелесть важной простоты.
X
Он пел любовь, любви послушный,
И песнь его была ясна,
Как мысли девы простодушной,
Как сон младенца, как луна
В пустынях неба безмятежных,
Богиня тайн и вздохов нежных.
Он пел разлуку и печаль,
И нечто, и туманну даль,
И романтические розы;
Он пел те дальные страны,
Где долго в лоно тишины
Лились его живые слезы;
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
