I clung to the once poor
Not from the sublime sight,
And because, only there
Life went on without pomp and parade.

Although I was familiar with lordliness
And with the public delicate,
I was an enemy darmoedstvu
And other paupers erratic.

And I tried to bring friendship
With people from the labor Ranks,
For which he did me the honor,
I was counting too dud.

It was osyazatelen without phrases,
materially, bodily, plumb
Way cellars unvarnished
And attic without curtains.

And I'm spoiled since,
As time touched damage,
And woe erected into shame,
Burghers and optimists cramp.

all those, whom I trusted,
I am a long time is no longer true.
I am a man lost
Since, how he lost all.

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Boris Pasternak