The Pushkin Page - Poems by Year
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Poems by Year
1821-23 : 1824-26 : 1827-29 : 1830-32 : 1833-36
I thought you had forgotten, heart,
Your ability to suffer pain.
That easy gift would come, I thought,
No more again! No more again!
Gone were the raptures and the griefs
And the dreams you half-believed. . .
But now I know, while beauty lives
so long will live my power to grieve.
I have erected a monument to myself
Not built by hands; the track of it, though trodden
By the people, shall not become overgrown,
And it stands higher than Alexander's column.
I shall not wholly die. In my sacred lyre
My soul shall outlive my dust and escape corruption--
And I shall be famed so long as underneath
The moon a single poet remains alive.
I shall be noised abroad through all great Russia,
Her innumerable tongues shall speak my name:
The tongue of the Slavs' proud grandson, the Finn, and now
The wild Tungus and Kalmyk, the steppes' friend.
In centuries to come I shall be loved by the people
For having awakened noble thoughts with my lyre,
For having glorified freedom in my harsh age
And called for mercy towards the fallen.
Be attentive, Muse, to the commandments of God;
Fearing no insult, asking for no crown,
Receive with indifference both flattery and slander,
And do not argue with a fool.