To Vyazemsky

So the sea, an ancient killer, Ignites your genius bold and soon? You hail the trident of Neptune With sounds of your golden lyre. Don’t sing him fame. In our vile days, Grey Neptune – Earth’s ally and debtor. In every element, man stays A tyrant, prisoner or traitor. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver To Vyazemsky 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. Translated by Alan Myers