Piotr Andreevich Viazemsky Poems

'Ah, Spring, sweet Spring, chief pride of Nature!'
The air is foul, the ground is sludge;
Men curse the mud when they go walking,
And plunged in muck, a horse can't budge.
...

I have outlived most things and people round me
and weighed the worth of most things in this life;
these days I drag along though bars surround me,
exist within set limits without strife.
...

Forgive me, dressing gown! My friend in idle bliss,
Comrade of leisure, a witness to my secret thoughts!
With you I knew a life monotonous
...