"What ardency awoke in me!",
When I was reading Pushkin's lines.
It’s like a gift that was revealed
Where the century's Gold shines,
And like the sun, people's hearts burned,
And entered into every soul
By his great strophe always teaching,
And answering to the beseaching.
His merry-making is non-stop,
He always plays by a new turn,
Now being prim, and then intriguing,
And in the height always ringing,
He still astonishes, runs through,
A fidget after all, anew!