He sped century epic poems,
And the story came to verses in decline;
Poets is not entirely to blame
(Although many of the verse is not at all smooth);
And the public is not allowed between the.
Who is guilty, who is right - so I do not know,
And the poems for a long time I did not read -
not because, not to love poems,
And: Well funny to lose sonorous stanzas
Zlata time ... in this century mature,
It is known to you, We are all busy business.
I do not read poetry - but like
Marano jest paper volatile;
His verse by the tail valiantly I catch;
I'm crazy about threefold harmonies
And wet rhymes - such as on th .
That is why I am writing this story.
Her magically-dark eyeballs
I'm not going to explain in detail,
To Coy avoid any questioning;
But the end will not be without morality,
To her children to read at least.
The hero is known, and not a new subject;
All the better: everything is out of date, what's new!
Boiling fire and force an early age,
I first sang about the other demon:
That was crazy, passionate, children's nonsense.
God knows where treasured notebook?
As for Mademoiselle fragrant glove
Her sheets - and heard: it's pretty?..1
Or mouse over it tries in the dust?..
But the features of an entirely different sort -
Aristocrat and pohozh featured.
Now travel back now I ask
For my bedroom: pink curtains
lowered, only with difficulty can the eye
Follow Oriental carpet patterns.
A pleasant thrill suddenly embraces you,
AND, virgin breath laden with,
Fire blazes face you sleepy air;
Here's a pen, here's shoulder, and near them
On muslin pillow lace
drawn Mlada, but rigorous profile ...
And it looks Mephistopheles.
It was great if Satan himself
Ile petty demon of the nechinovnyh,
Whose friendship so people need
For secret affairs, family and love?
I do not know! If they were given
The Earth's shape, on horns and dress
I could distinguish the bastard with the nobility;
But the spirit - known, what the spirit!
A life, force, feeling, sight, vote, hearing -
And the thought - without a body - often in different forms;
(Demons just do draw ugly).
But I'm not always imagined
Enemy of the saints and pure motives.
My young mind, happened, troubled
mighty way; between different visions,
as the king, dumb and proud, he shone
This magically sweet beauty,
What was scary ... and longing soul
Compresses - and this wild nonsense
I haunted my mind for many years.
But I, parted from other dreams,
And get rid of him - verse!
weapons excellent: enemies
Throw you face epigram ...
Do you want to annoy your friends eh?
Put in them a poem or drama!
but full, to business. I told you so,
What's in the bedroom that lurked cunning demon.
Innocent sleep was not really touched it.
not wise: not boiled the blood in it,
And he knew otherwise love;
And it's his insidious temptations
It was full: No wonder he's a genius!
"You do not know, who I am - but it was a long time
I read in your soul; invisibly,
Quietly talking to you, - but
my words, like a shadow, pass by
childish heart, - and what
I marvel at them calmly and in silence, –
Let it go! Why do you need my name?
You rejected with horror my b
mad love, - but I love
In AOĆhis patient and wait ... I can,
I do not want any caresses, no kiss.