Николай Некрасов — Блажен незлобивый поэт

Blazhen nezlobivy poet,
V kom malo zhelchi, mnogo chuvstva:
Yemu tak iskrenen privet
Druzey spokoynogo iskusstva;

Yemu sochuvstviye v tolpe,
Kak ropot voln, laskayet ukho;
On chuzhd somnenia v sebe —
Sey pytki tvorcheskogo dukha;

Lyubya bespechnost i pokoy,
Gnushayas derzkoyu satiroy,
On prochno vlastvuyet tolpoy
S svoyey mirolyubivoy liroy.

Divyas velikomu umu,
Yego ne gonyat, ne zloslovyat,
I sovremenniki yemu
Pri zhizni pamyatnik gotovyat...

No net poshchady u sudby
Tomu, chey blagorodny geny
Stal oblichitelem tolpy,
Yee strastey i zabluzhdeny.

Pitaya nenavistyu grud,
Usta vooruzhiv satiroy,
Prokhodit on ternisty put
S svoyey karayushcheyu liroy.

Yego presleduyut khuly:
On lovit zvuki odobrenya
Ne v sladkom ropote khvaly,
A v dikikh krikakh ozloblenya.

I verya i ne verya vnov
Mechte vysokogo prizvanya,
On propoveduyet lyubov
Vrazhdebnym slovom otritsanya, —

I kazhdy zvuk yego rechey
Plodit yemu vragov surovykh,
I umnykh i pustykh lyudey,
Ravno kleymit yego gotovykh.

So vsekh storon yego klyanut
I, tolko trup yego uvidya,
Kak mnogo sdelal on, poymut,
I kak lyubil on — nenavidya!