Я памятник себе воздвиг нерукотворный... [Ya pamyatnik sebe vozdvig nerukotvornyi...] [English translation]

I raised myself a monument

I raised myself a monument not made by hand,

The nation’s path towards it will not ever fade,

Rebellious head ascending, it shall higher stand

Than Alexander's colonnade.

No, I will not die away - my soul for its loved lyre

long will my dust and bodily decay survive -

So long as still in this dull word I can inspire

A single poet yet alive.

Through all great Rus my name will pass and, all beguiled,

each man will name me spirit of the mother tongue.

To Slavic brother, Finn, and only lately wild

Tungoos, to Kalmik have I sung.

For long, and all the more beloved, to the nation

Will I remain who summoned kindness with my lyre,

Who magnified in my cruel era liberation

And mercy to the poor required.

Always be obedient, muse, to heaven’s bidding,

Untroubled by affront and heedless of reward,

Praise and curse with equanimity admitting

And, fools opposing, sheath your sword.