Liquid glass from willson in Vladivostok. Alexander Pushkin - To Pushchin (Dear birthday boy...): Poem About dear Pushchin

Dear birthday boy,
Oh dear Pushchin!
The hermit has come to you
With an open soul;
Hug with the alien -
But a good singer
Don't fuss to meet
From the front porch.
He is a guest without etiquette,
Doesn't require a hello
Crafty vanity;
Accept his kiss
And pure desires
Heartfelt simplicity!
Give your guests a feast;
Waxed on the table
Put down the beer mug
And a cup of punch.
An old drinking buddy!
Let's forget for an hour.
Let the lamp of your mind
It will now go out in us,
Let the old man be winged
Flies by postal!
We cherish the moment of loss
For fun only!

You are happy, dear friend
In the calm of gold
Your age flows carelessly,
Day after day passes;
And you are in a conversation of graces,
Without knowing black troubles,
You live as Horace lived,
Although not a poet.
Under the roof of the poor
You don't know me at all
With the sinister Hippocrates,
With a frowning butt;
Don't you see at the doorstep
Crowds of worries;
We found our way to you
Gaiety and Eros;
Do you love the clink of glasses
And the pipe smoke is thick,
And the demon of metromaniacs
Doesn't rule over you.
You are happy in this lot.
Tell me what's wrong
Should I wish it to a friend?
I'll have to shut up...

God grant that I, with friends
Welcoming the hundredth of May,
Covered with gray hairs
Told you in verse:
Here is the cup; pour it!
Fun! be to the grave
Our faithful companion.
And let us both die
At the sound of full bowls!

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Liquid glass from willson in Vladivostok

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Dear birthday boy,
Oh dear Pushchin!
The hermit has come to you
With an open soul;
Hug with the alien -
But a good singer
Don't fuss to meet
From the front porch.
He is a guest without etiquette,
Doesn't require a hello
Crafty vanity;
Accept his kiss
And pure desires
Heartfelt simplicity!
Give your guests a feast;
Waxed on the table
Put down the beer mug
And a cup of punch.
An old drinking buddy!
Let's forget for an hour
Let the lamp of your mind
It will now go out in us;
Let the old man be winged
Flies by postal:
We cherish the moment of loss
For fun only!

You are happy, dear friend!
In the calm of gold
Your age flows carelessly,
Day after day passes;
And you are in conversation Graces,
Without knowing black troubles,
You live as Horace lived,
Although not a poet.
Under the roof of the poor
You don't know me at all
With the sinister Hippocrates,
With a frowning butt;
Don't you see at the doorstep
Crowds of worries;
We found our way to you
Gaiety and Eros;
Do you love the clink of glasses
And the pipe smoke is thick,
And the demon of metromaniacs
Doesn't rule over you.
You are happy in this lot.
Tell me what's wrong
Should I wish it to a friend?
I'll have to shut up...

‎God grant that I, with friends
Welcoming the hundredth of May,
Covered with gray hairs
Told you in verse:
Here is the cup; pour it!
Fun! be to the grave
Our faithful companion,
And let us both die
At the sound of full bowls!

Pushkin, 1815

The poem was written on the occasion of the seventeenth birthday of Pushkin’s closest friend - I. I. Pushchina.

Pushchin, Ivan Ivanovich(1798-1859) - a prominent Decembrist, exiled to hard labor. Left remarkable in truthfulness and heartfelt feeling " Notes about Pushkin».