Indifferent to the world’s delight
Seeking the pleasure of my friends
I only wish the words I write
Might have been turned to better ends –
Reflecting you, your noble dreams,
Your spirit’s true simplicity
Lines more worthy of such themes,
Of your sublime clear poetry.
Such as they are, view these extremes
These varied chapters in your hand,
With fond indulgence; witty, tragic,
The casual, the idealistic,
The fruit of carefree hours, unplanned,
Insomnia, pale inspiration,
Unripe powers, or fading art,
The intellect’s cold observation,
The bitter record of the heart.
To Peter Alexandrovich Pletnev
from Aleksandr Pushkin
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