quarta-feira, março 11, 2009


Alexandre Puskine

"Conversation Of a Bookseller With a Poet"

He’s blessed, who in his sole saved
Its most beautiful creations,
And from the people, as from graves,
For sense, didn’t wait their commendations!
He’s blessed who, silent, was a bard
And did not wear thorny crown,
Forgotten with despiteful crowd,
Who, nameless, left this dole, hard.
More furtive than the heart’s illusion,
What’s fame? The reader’s feeble voice?
Unletter’d scoundrels’ prosecution?
Or the delighted blockheads’ noise?

Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, December, 2001

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