Sasha

147
Or, laboring, how foolish sheep,
In the ranks of the nobility, with slave humiliation,
Covering uniform heart scoundrel, –
Search ranks, reconciled with human contempt,
And worship the Germans until the end of ...
And what is the best German Slav?
Is not that, what, where his fate
nor throw, he always finds himself
Fatherland and potatoes?.. This is the people:
And without the talent of rights and for the money is,
He crushes all, and beat him - not tuzhit!

148
Here tribe: any features they Baron!
And so the professor - each of the shoemaker!
And boldly at random, he saith,
As Oracle, Voss to your tripod!22
shouts, noise ... But what? - He was not born
Under our sky; our holy steppe
In his soulless eyes - steppe Easy,
Without the glorious monuments, without a trace,
Wherever he could read the story of the centuries,
that, with their terrible deeds,
Carried away by waves of oblivion ...

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