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

Exegi monumentum*

This monument I wrought to self no hands created,

No public tracks to it shall ever fill with grass,

It soared, head full of pride yet grossly unabated

Above the column stone of Alexander-tsar's.

No, I won't fully die - my soul in cherished lyre

My ashes will outlive and will escape decay-

And I'll be glorified in this world's moonlit shire

Until at least one single poet here might stay.

Then Russia-wide, reports of me will have been,

And I shall be recalled by any moving tongue,

Proud Slavic grandsons, Finns, and still uncouth seen

Tungús and Kalmyk- the steppe's friend unsung.

For years to come, in thrall to Mankind wisdom

Whose kindest feelings did my lyre awake,

In my cruel century I glorified all Freedom

And begged for mercy for the fallen's sake.

O, muse, please hearken to God's graces,

Not knowing shame, not seeking laurels, then

In equanimity accepting libels, praises

Don't ever argue with a foolish man.