Текст песни АЛЕКСАНДР СЕРГЕЕВИЧ ПУШКИН - 19 октября

Forest sheds its crimson dress,
Srebreno frost uvyanuvshee field
Peep day seemed reluctant
And hidden behind the edge of the district of the mountains.
Blaze, a fireplace in my desolate cell;
And you, the wine, the autumn cold one,
Pour me chest welcome hangover,
A moment's oblivion bitter agony.

Sad I am with my friend there,
With whom I long gash separation,
Who would have the heart to shake hands
And I wish a lot of happy years.
I drink alone; vain imagination
Around me mates calling;
Familiar not hear an approximation,
And dear my soul is waiting.

I drink one, and on the banks of the Neva
My friends today called ...
But many l there of you feasting?
Yet you who were not counted?
Who changed the fascinating habit?
Who of you drew cold light?
Whose voice was silent on the common roll?
Who came? Who among you is not?

He did not come, curly our singer,
With fire in the eyes, with a guitar sladkoglasnoy:
Under the beautiful myrtles Italy
He quietly sleeps, and friendly tool
Do not inscribed on the tomb of Russian
A few words in the language of the native,
That once found dull hello
The son of the north, wandering in the edge of another's.

Do you sit in a circle of friends,
Alien heaven restless lover?
Or again you pass the Tropic of sultry
And the eternal ice of the midnight seas?
Happy journey! .. On the threshold of the Lyceum
You stepped on the ship joking,
And from that time in the seas of your road,
On the waves and storms favorite child!

You kept in wandering fate
Wonderful years initially manners:
Lyceum noise Lyceum fun
Amid stormy waves dreamed of you;
You stretched out over the sea, we hand
Do you have one in Mlada soul wore
And to say: "At long separation
We have a secret rock, perhaps condemned! "

My friends, our beautiful union!
He is the soul is indivisible and eternal -
Steadfast, free and carefree,
He fused the shadow of amicable muses.
Where would any of us threw Fate
And happiness which would neither led,
All the same we are: we are a world of a foreign land;
Fatherland we Tsarskoye Selo.

From end to end the storm chasing,
Entangled in the fate of the harsh,
I am in awe at the bosom of friendship new
Charter pressed caressing the head of the ...
On the plea of ​​my sad and rebellious,
From the first years of trusting hope,
Friends otherwise gentle soul surrendered;
But bitter was nebratskogo their greetings.

And now, here in this forgotten wilderness,
The monastery and the desert blizzards still small,
I was preparing sweet consolation:
Three of you, friends of my soul,
There hugged me. Therefore home disgraced,
Oh my Leo, you first visited;
You will delight exile sad day,
Are you on the day his face transformed.

You Gorchakov, lucky since the early days,
Praise you - Fortune shine cold
I do not change your soul free:
All the same you for the honor and friends.
We have a different way of destiny assigned to strict;
Stepping into life, we quickly went:
But accidentally country road
We met and embraced each other fraternally.

When I understood the anger of fate,
For all the stranger as an orphan homeless
Under the head of the storm, I hung languid
And I am waiting for you, Veshchunov permesskih virgins
And you come to the son of laziness inspirational,
About my Delvig: Your voice has awakened
Heart fever, so long slumber,
And I cheerfully blessed destiny.

From infancy we have the spirit of the songs in the burn,
And the wonderful excitement we have known;
From infancy two muses us flew
And was their sweet caress our destiny:
But I have loved the applause,
You're proud, singing and music for the soul;
His gift is life, I spent unattended
You're a genius brought her in silence.

Serving the Muses not tolerate fuss;
Great to be dignified:
But the youth we are advised ado,
And we are pleased with the noisy dreams ...
Come to your senses - but it's too late! and sadly
Looking back, seeing no traces there.
Tell me, William, not the only weapon with us was,
My brother is home to museums, by fate?

It's time! our mental torments
Not worth the world; leave delusion!
Sokroem lives under the shadow of solitude!
I'm waiting for you, my late friend -
Come; fire magic story
Heart legends revive;
Let's talk about the stormy days of the Caucasus,
About Schiller, of glory, of love.

It's time for me ... Feast, friends!
I foresee a welcome rendezvous;
Remember Well poet predictions:
Maintain a year, and I'm with you again,
Fulfill the covenant of my dreams;
Maintain a year and I yavlyusya to you!
Oh, how many tears and many exclamations,
And how many cups podyatyh to heaven!

And the first full, friends, full of!
And all to the bottom in honor of our union!
Bless jubilant muse
Bless: long live the Lyceum!
Mentors, store our youth,
All honor, dead and alive,
To face podyav appreciation bowl
Beside evil, for the benefit of us pay.

Enough, enough! and kindled hearts,
Again to the bottom, to drink a drop!
But for whom? for others, guess ...
Hooray, our King! so! drink to the king.
He is a man! it dominates moment.
He is the servant of rumors, doubts and passions;
Forgive him unjust persecution:
He took Paris, he founded the Lyceum.

Feast same, yet we are here!
Alas, our circle of the hour thins;
Who sleeps in a coffin, who tour across siroteet;
Destiny looks we vyanem; days pass;
Invisible slopes and hladeya,
We are nearing the top of its ...
This train of us in old age the day of the Lyceum
Glory have one?

Unhappy one! Among the new generations
Tiresome guest and excess, and a stranger,
He will remember us and the days of the compounds,
Closing his eyes with a shaking hand ...
Let he with joy though sad
Then this e? 6?