Friends - Pushkin

For what, gay friends,
My silence disturb you?
Solo last goodbye,
Oh, my Muse smolknula:
In vain I took the lyre in hand
Saber fun at feasts
And loose strings
I sought the lost sounds ...
Gods you are still
Zlatыe days, golden night,
And love is fixed
Eyes full of fire;
Play, sing, about friends,
Utratte evening fleeting;
And your joy carefree
Through tears I Smile.

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Boris Pasternak
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