To Prince Pyotr Andreevich Vyazemsky

(Kak zhizni obshchie prizyvy)

Life's indiscriminate enticement

And the attraction of the dream—

You learned the passion of excitement,

Appeals both peaceful and extreme.

You’ve seen the winds abate and freshen

To which on fate's precarious ways

Our fragile sea-tossed boat obeys.

To you I dare bring my confession

About my woes, about my craze.

Yet ‘mid entanglements and blindness,

While fighting evil fortune's ploys,

I met with elevating kindness

And sought for beauty, love and joys.

A happy friend of isolation,

Whose dreams are gone beyond recall

And whose ambitious aspirations

Are killed by reason once for all;

A friend of peace and glory's minion,

For fashions, fads, and men's opinions,

I do not have the slightest care.

I, who have been maligned so often,

Forgave my foes, as from a coffin,

As from a grave (I like it there!).

And yet the Lethe I created

Sometimes I force myself to leave,

O’er steppes I fly, alive, elated,

But full of anguished thoughts, and grieve.

170

I look for you. How are you doing,

What are the goals you are pursuing—

You, who once warmed me with your rays,

When I, my wayward Fortune wooing,

Enjoyed your fire's exalted blaze?

Does Providence reward your patience?

What trials are coming from the skies?

I let my plea to heaven rise:

May ever yours be inspiration

And may ill luck unbind its ties.

Star of the Pleiad that has been scattered

I, from my wasteland, wish to say

And have no more important matter:

For High Benevolence I pray.

I pray that accidents and worries

God should not have for you in store,

Although the postman seldom hurries

To bring my letter to your door.

1834 (1836)

The Stillborn

(Ia iz plemeni dukhov)

Though I am the spirits’ kin,

Th’Empyrean is for others;

Once I touch the heavens’ rim,

Something presses me and smothers.

I am weak and at a loss;

Waves of clouds encircle Eden,

But, a pinioned breath, I toss

Up and down, by ether ridden.