Original Poem by A. S. Pushkin

Monument

I am a monument erected without hands,
Not overgrown popular trail
He ascended above the head of the rebellious
The Alexander pillar.

No, I will not die — the soul in the sacred lyre
My ashes will outlive and corruption runs away —
And I till in the sublunary world
Will live at least one poet.

The rumor about me throughout the great of Russia,
And call me every one who is in her tongue,
And the proud grandson of the Slavs, and Finn, and now wild
Tungus and Kalmyk steppes.

How long do I people
What I have good feelings aroused lyre,
What's in my cruel age I praised freedom
And mercy for the fallen.

The behest of God, o Muse, be obedient;
Insults without fearing, without demanding a wreath,
Praise and slander accept indifferently
Don't argue with a fool.

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This is the most famous Russian poet.

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