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ArtistA 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.
A dramatic sunset backdrop highlights a large bonfire in the foreground, surrounded by tall columns and a statue. In the distance, a prominent obelisk and cityscape can be seen.