Вы избалованы... пер. А. С. Пушкина
To Helen Ushakova in her album
You are so naughty by the nature,
For you it was biassed for long,
And now our endless praising
Seems for you like a tiresome ode.
You know by yourself, indeed,
That you are worth to love;
That you by gentle look are like Armide;
And Sylfide - by your body light.
Your scarlet lips are like the rose
Of harmony, which's so close...
And our rhymes, and our prose
Look like for you as a simple noise....
But memoirs of your bright beauty
Touch our hearts and captive them,
And negligently lines I'm putting
To your album with all respect.
Perhaps, there'll arrive a notion
To your mind all about singer,
Who sang for you, when no border
Existed round the Presnya field...
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