How often, rising from the arms of sleep,
I went straight to my desk and found the Muse
greeting me with a story, an eppistle,
or some invention, whispered in the night.
Fashion was foreign to her, and she loved
my homely style or reasoning, and my verse
flourished in freedom and simplicity;
I wrote light-heartedly; my smiles, my jokes
were never dashed by any hint of toil.
Excerto do poema Farewell to a Dressing Gown, Prince Pyotr Vyazemsky
in Chapter II - Around Pushkin
The Penguin Book of Russian Poetry - edited by Robert Chandler,
Boris Dralyuk and Irina Mashinski