Exegi monumentum
Я памятник себе воздвиг нерукотворный,
К нему не зарастет народная тропа,
Вознесся выше он главою непокорной
Александрийского столпа.
Нет, весь я не умру — душа в заветной лире
Мой прах переживет и тленья убежит —
И славен буду я, доколь в подлунном мире
Жив будет хоть один пиит.
Слух обо мне пройдет по всей Руси великой,
И назовет меня всяк сущий в ней язык,
И гордый внук славян, и финн, и ныне дикой
Тунгус, и друг степей калмык.
И долго буду тем любезен я народу,
Что чувства добрые я лирой пробуждал,
Что в мой жестокий век восславил я Свободу
И милость к падшим призывал.
Веленью божию, о муза, будь послушна,
Обиды не страшась, не требуя венца,
Хвалу и клевету приемли равнодушно
И не оспаривай глупца.
21 августа 1836
Александр Сергеевич Пушкин (1799-1837)
Exegi monumentum
I have erected a monument to myself
Not built by hands; the track of it, though trodden
By the people, shall not become overgrown,
And it stands higher than Alexander’s column.
I shall not wholly die. In my sacred lyre
My soul shall outlive my dust and escape corruption —
And I shall be famed so long as underneath
The moon a single poet remains alive.
I shall be noised abroad through all great Russia,
Her innumerable tongues shall speak my name:
The tongue of the Slavs’ proud grandson, the Finn, and now
The wild Tungus and Kalmyk, the steppes’ friend.
In centuries to come I shall be loved by the people
For having awakened noble thoughts with my lyre,
For having glorified freedom in my harsh age
And called for mercy towards the fallen.
Be attentive, Muse, to the commandments of God;
Fearing no insult, asking for no crown,
Receive with indifference both flattery and slander,
And do not argue with a fool.
August 21, 1836
Alexander Pushkin
Translated by Babette Deutsch
My Monument
A monument not hand-made I have for me erected;
The path to it well-trodden will not overgrow;
Risen higher has it with unbending head
Than the monument of Alexander.
No! not all of me shall die! my soul in hallowed lyre
Shall my dust survive, and escape destruction —
And famous be I shall, as long as on earth sublunar
One bard at least living shall remain.
My name will travel over the whole of Russia great,
And there pronounce my name shall every living tongue:
The Slav’s proud scion, and the Finn, and the savage yet
Tungus, and the Calmuck, lover of the steppe.
And long to the nation I shall be dear:
For rousing with my lyre its noble feelings,
For extolling freedom in a cruel age,
For calling mercy upon the fallen.
The bidding of God, O Muse, obey.
Fear not insult, ask not crown:
Praise and blame take with indifference
And dispute not with the fool!
Alexander Pushkin
Translated by Ivan Panin
Exegi monumentum
A monument I’ve raised not built with hands,
And common folk shall keep the path well trodden
To where it unsubdued and towering stands
Higher than Alexander’s Column.
I shall not wholly die-for in my sacred lyre
My spirit shall outlive my dust’s corruption —
And honour shall I have, so long the glorious fire
Of poesy flames on one single scutcheon.
Rumour of me shall then my whole vast country fill,
In every tongue she owns my name she’ll speak.
Proud Slave’s posterity, Finn, and-unlettered still —
The Tungus, and the steppe-loving Kalmyk.
And long the people yet will honour me
Because my lyre was tuned to loving-kindness
And, in a cruel Age, I sang of Liberty
And mercy begged of Justice in her blindness.
Indifferent alike to praise or blame
Give heed, O Muse, but to the voice Divine
Fearing not injury, nor seeking fame,
Nor casting pearls to swine.
Alexander Pushkin
Translated by Avril Pyman
