It seems the sea, that scourge of ages,
contrives your genius to inspire?
You laud upon your golden lyre
old Neptune’s trident as he rages.
Don’t waste your praise. These days you’ll find
that sea and land have no division.
On any element mankind
is tyrant, traitor, or in prison.
by Александр Сергеевич Пушкин (Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin)
a.k.a. Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin
translated by Alan Myers
The poem is addressed to Pushkin’s close friend and poetic contemporary Prince Pyotr Andreyevich Vyazemsky who was a leading personality of the Golden Age of Russian poetry.
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