And by the new Sun which may blind
The world awakens for the life
And Pushkin's verse brings, as a code,
Love to the Homeland and the folk,
In it the river is encrypted
Where the miraculous line feeds us
As the Live water of the spring,
Which makes us young, inspiring.
"Peace upon you, dreads of the past!"
Now I look at you with a smile.
In everyone the Pushkin ply
Has left a playful mark at last.
The light of past melancholies -
The sound of glorious melodies.