Текст песни А.С. Пушкин - Я памятник себе воздвиг...

I have erected a monument without hands,
For it is not overgrown popular trail,
He ascended above the head of unruly
       Alexander Column.

No, all I will not die - the soul in the sacred lyre
My ashes survive and decay escape -
And I'll be nice, until in the sublunary world
       Alive is a single poet.

The hearing will take me across the great Russia,
And he calls me every one who is in her language,
And the proud grandson of Slavs and Finns, and now the wild
       Tungus and Kalmyk steppes friend.

For a long time I'll be the kind people,
What I'm feeling good lyre awake,
What's in my cruel age I praised Freedom
       And mercy for the fallen.

Velenje God muse about whether obedient,
Grievances without fear, without requiring the crown,
Praise and slander acceptable indifferent
       And not to dispute a fool.