Exegi monumentum

Not made by human hand, my towering creation,
The people’s path thereto will never disappear,
Like Alexander’s pile that rises over nations,
My monument shall stand, revered and dear.

I shall not wholly die – within the sacred lyre
My soul shall live beyond and will escape decay,
And on this moonlit sphere my fame shall not expire,
As long as poets yet remain.
 
The echo of my name will travel through vast Russia,
In every tongue, my verse my readers apprehend,
Alike by proud Slav, by Finn, and by impassioned
Kalmuck – the prairie’s primal friend.

I know – time will pass, yet still my measured rhythm,
My poems, softly phrased though years grow old,
Shall still be recognized – I sang the songs of freedom,
And mercy to the fallen called.

O Muse, obey the will while keeping God’s commandments,
And fear neither lies, nor strive to win a crown;
Receive with equal calm both praise and honor’s absence,
Don’t contradict a clown.