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Yuri Starostin

(4.07.1972.)

Evgeny Onegin 6-10 A.S. Pushkin


I

Noticed that Vladimir did hide,
Onegin, by a boredom again persecuted,
Near Olga has plunged into a thought,
Be contant by own revenge.
Behind him and Olenka has yawned,
By an eyes has searched Lensky,
And an infinite cotylion
Is wearied her, as a heavy dream.
But it is terminated. Follow a supper.
Laid a beds; for a visitors
A lodging for the night take away from an outer entrance hall
To the maiden same. To all it is necessary
The late dream. Onegin mine
Alone has left to sleep home.

II

All has calmed down: in a drawing room
Heavy Pustyacov snores
With the heavy half.
Gvozdin, Buyanov, Petushcov
And Flyanov not absolutely healthy,
On a chairs have settled in a dining room,
And on a floor of monsieur Trike,
In a jersey, in an old duffer.
A maidens in a Tatyana's rooms
And Olga all are filled by a dream.
Alone, the sad under a window
The lighted up by a beam of Diana,
The poor Tatyana does not sleep
And in a dark field looks.

III

Him unexpected appearance,
An instant tenderness of an eyes
And a strange by an Olga behavior
To a depth of the soul
She is got; cannot
In any way to understand him; disturbs
Him jealous melancholy,
As though a cold arm
To her presses a heart, as though a chasm
Under her is blackens and rustles...
'I will die, - Tanja speaks, -
But the doom from him is kind.
I do not grumble: why to grumble?
He cannot do me a happiness '.

IV

Forward, forward, mine story!
The new person calls us.
In a five versts from Krasnogorye,
A Lensky villages, lives
Also is well still hitherto
In a philosophic desert
Zaretsky, is a time the brawler,
A gambling gang ataman,
A head of a rakes, a tractir tribune,
Now a kind and simple,
The father of a family, a single,
The reliable friend, the peace landowner
And even the fair person:
So our century is corrected!

V

Happened, a flattering voice of a light
In him praises a malicious bravery:
He, truth, in an ace from a pistol
In a five sazhens have goted,
And that to tell in a battle
Once in the present singing
He has caused a stir, brave in a dirt
From a calmyk horse fallen down,
As a zuzya a drunk, and to a frenchmen
Has got in a captivity: a drag pledge!
Newest Regul, an abuse god,
Ready again to indulge in a bonds,
That in each morning at Very {37}
On a credit to drain bottles three.

VI

Happened, he do teased funny,
Was able a fool to fool
And a clever to fool nicely,
Or obviously, or stealthily,
Though also to him other pieces
Has not pass without a science,
Though sometimes and own to simple
He came in, as the gawk.
He was able to argue cheerfully,
Sharply and stupidly to answer,
At times prudently to keep silent,
At times prudently to squabble,
A friends to quarrel is young
And on a barrier to put them,

VII

Or do reconcile them to oblige,
To have a breakfast three together,
And after secretly to defame
By a cheerful joke, by a lies.
Sed alia tempora! A daring
(As a love dream, other prank)
Passes with a live youth.
As I have told, my Zaretsky,
Under a shade of a bird cherries and acacias
From a storms having taken cover at last,
Lives, as a true wise man,
Sits down a cabbage, as Goratsy,
Plants a ducks and geese
And learns to the alphabet a children.

VIII

He was not silly; and my Evgeny,
Not respecting a heart in him,
Did loved and a spirit of him judgements,
And a sensible sense about that about this.
He with a pleasure, happened,
Did seen with him, and so at all
In a morning has not been surprised,
When he was see him.
That after the first greetings,
Having interrupted a begun talking,
Onegin, weaken a look,
Gave in a hand a note from the poet.
Onegin has approached to a window
And silently has read.

IX

So was a pleasant, noble,
A short call, or a cartel:
Politely, with a clearness cold
Lensky was called the friend on a duel.
Onegin from a first movement,
To the ambassador a such hand-ment
Turned, without a wasting words
Has told that he is always ready.
Zaretsky has risen without an explanations;
To remain to a dale did not want,
Having at a houses a many affairs,
And immediately left; but Evgeny
Alone with own soul
Was dissatisfied by himself.

X

And rightly: in a strict analysis,
On a secret court having called himself,
He accused himself in a many respects:
First, he was wrong et,
That over a shy, gentle love
So has joked an evening carelessly.
And secondly: lets the poet
Plays a fool; in eighteen years
It is pardonable. Evgeny,
By whole heart loving the young man,
Should render himself
Not a ball of a prereasonings,
Not the ardent boy, the fighter,
But the husband with a honour and with a mind.

XI

He could out a feelings,
Instead be bristle, as an animal;
He should disarm
A young heart. 'But now
Late; time has departed...
To that he is thinks - in this business
Has interfered an old dueler;
He is malicious, is a gossip, is talkative...
Certainly, should be a despise
By a coast him amusing words,
But whisper, a louder of a fools...'
And here public opinion! {38}
A honour spring, our idol!
And here on an one the world spins!

XII

Boiling by an impatient enmity,
The answer at the house the poet did waited;
And here the eloquent neighbour
Has brought solemnly the answer.
Now to the jealous man be is a holiday!
He still was afraid, that the prankish
Did not joked off somehow,
A dodge invented and a breast
Turned from a pistol.
Now a doubts are solved:
They on a mill should
To arrive tomorrow till a dawn,
To load up against each other a trigger
And to mark in a thigh or in a temple.

XIII

Solved the coquette to hate,
Boiling Lensky did not want
Before a duel to see Olga,
On the sun, on an o`clock did looked,
Has waved by arm at last -
And has become at a neigbours.
He thought to confuse Olenka,
By own arrive to amaze;
Do not was be: as so before,
On a meeting of the poor singer
Olenka has jumped from a porch,
Is similar to a windy hope,
Is quick, careless, cheerful,
Well she is exact the same as was.

XIV

'Why the last evening you did so early disappeared? '
There was first Olenka a question.
All feelings in Lensky have grown dull,
And silently he has hung up a nose.
The jealousy and annoy has disappeared
Before this clearity of a sight,
Before this gentle simplicity,
Before this rushed soul! .
He looks in a sweet darling;
He sees: he is still loved;
He would by a repentance weary,
Is ready to ask at her a forgive,
Trembles, does not find a words,
He is happy, he is almost healthy...

XVI. XVII

And again thoughtful, sad
Before the darling Olga,
Vladimir is not valid
Yesterday remind her;
He thinks: 'there will be to her a saviour.
I will not suffer, that debauchery
By a fire and sighs and praises
Did young heart tempted;
That a worm disdained, poisonous
Did sharpened a lily small stalk;
That a two-morning flower
Has faded still a semiopened '.
All it meant, friends:
With the friend I am shot.

XVIII

When he would know, what a wound
My Tatyana heart burnt down!
When Tatyana would know,
When know it could,
That tomorrow Lensky and Evgeny
Will begin to argue about a sepulchral shade;
Ah, maybe, her love
A friends would connect again!
But this passion and casually
Still nobody do not opened.
Onegin about all was silent;
Tatyana has pined secretly;
One nurse could know,
Yes she was inscrutable.

XIX

All the evening long Lensky has been disseminated,
So is silent, so oars again;
But the one who is cherished by a muse,
Is always that: frown an eyebrow,
He sat down to a clavichords
And struck on its one chords,
so, to Olga looks having directed,
Did whispered: neither a truth? I am happy.
But late; time to go. It was compressed
In him, the heart, full melancholy;
Saying goodbye to the young maiden,
It as though was broken off.
She looks to it in a face.
'What is with you? ' - so. - And on a porch.

XX

Home having arrived, a pistols
He has viewed, then did enclosed
Again them in a box and, undressed,
At a candle, has opened Schiller;
But thought of one him has volumed;
In it a sad heart does not doze:
With an unexplained beauty
He sees Olga before himself.
Vladimir closes the book,
Takes a feather; him verses
Are full of a love nonsense,
Sounds and flows. Reads its
He aloud, in a lyrical heat,
As drunk Delwig on a feast.

XXI

A verses on a case have remained;
I have its; here its:
'Where, where you have left,
My spring golden days?
What a day approaching prepares for me?
Its my look in vain catches,
In a deep haze he is concealed.
There is no need; right a destiny law.
Whether I will fall by an arrow pierced
Or it will fly by,
All blessing: a vigil and a dream
Hour defined comes;
Be blest also a day of a cares,
Be blest also a darkness arrive!

XXII

Will flash a dennitsa beam behind a morning
And a bright day will play;
And I do, perhaps, a tombs
I will descend in a mysterious shade,
And a memory of the young poet
Will absorb a slow Year,
Will forget the world me; but you
Whether you will come, the maiden of a beauty,
A tear to spill over an early urn
And to think: he loved me,
He has devoted to me only
A dawn of a sad rough life! .
The hearty friend, the desired friend,
Come, come: I your spouse! .'

XXIII

So he wrote darkly and inertly
(That we call a romanticism,
Though a romanticism here above
I do not see; yes what is to us in that?)
And at last before a dawn,
Declined a tired head,
On a fashionable word an ideal
Quietly Lensky has dozed;
But only by a sleepy sharming
He was forgot, now the neighbour
Enters into the silent office
And awakes Lensky by an calling up:
'It is time to stand up: the seventh hour et.
Onegin truly waits for us '.

XXIV

But he be mistaken: Evgeny
Slept at this time a deathlike sleep.
Already a nights shade is going rare
And Vesper is met by a cock;
Onegin sleeps to himself deeply.
Et the sun slides highly,
And a flying blizzard
Shines and is twisted; but a bed
Still Evgeny has not left,
Over him the dream flies.
Here he at least has woken up
And has moved a floors veil apart;
Looks - and sees that it is time
For a long time to go from a court yard.

XXV

He calls more soon. To him
The servant frenchman Gilo run it,
Offers the dressing gown and shoes
And submits to him a linen.
Onegin hastens to put on,
To the servant orders to prepare
With him together to go and with himself
To take also a box fighting.
A sledge running is ready.
He has sat down, on a mill flies.
Have come rushing. He to the servant orders
A Lepage {39} fatal trunks
To bear behind him, and to a horses
To drive in the field to two oaklets.

XXVI

Stiffened on a dam Lensky
For a long time impatiently did waited;
Meanwhile, the mechanic rural,
Zaretsky did condemned a millstone.
There is going Onegin with a pardon.
'But where, - said with an amazing
Zaretsky, - where is your secondant? '
In a duels the classic and the pedant,
He loved a method from a feeling,
And the person to stretch
He did allowed not somehow,
But in a strict rules of an art,
On all legend of an olden time
(What to praise we in him should) .

XXVII

'My secondant? - Evgeny has told, -
Here he is: my friend, monsieur Guillot.
I do not expect an objections
On my representation:
Though the person is unknown,
But certainly a small fair '.
Zaretsky has had a snack lip.
Lensky Onegin did asked:
'Well, to begin? ' - we will begin, perhaps, -
Vladimir has told. And they have gone
For a mill. While in the distance
Our Zaretsky and a fair small
Have entered in the important contract,
An enemies stand, dumped a look.

XXVIII

An enemies! Whether for a long time each from other
Their blood lust has taken away?
For a long time either they do a leisure-time,
A meal, thoughts and affairs
Divided amicably? Nowadays spitefully,
To an enemies hereditary similarly,
As in a terrible, not clear dream,
They each other in a silence
Prepares a doom cool- bloody...
Not to laugh either them, while
Their hand has not emcrimsoned,
Not to apart whether amicably? .
But wildly a secular enmity
Is afraid of a false shame.

XXIX

Here a pistols have flashed,
The hammer rattle about a ramrod.
In a cut trunk a bullets leave,
And the cock has clicked for the first time.
Here a gunpowder by a stream grayish
On a shelf is strewed. The gear,
Reliably screwed creamen
Is cocked still. For a near stub
Gilo confused stand.
A raincoats are thrown by two enemies.
Zaretsky thirty two steps
Has measured with an excellent accuracy,
Do distance to a friends on an extreme trace,
And everyone took the pistol.

XXX

'Now converge'.
Cool bloody,
Not aiming yet, two enemies
By a gait firm, silently, exactly
Have passed a four step,
A four mortal steps.
Own pistol then Evgeny,
Not breaking to come,
Began to raise by the first silently.
Here a five steps have still stepped,
And Lensky, close a left eye,
Began to aim also - but just
Onegin has shot... Have billed
An o`clocks fixed: the poet
Drops silently a pistol,

XXXI

On a breast puts quietly a hand
And falls. A foggy look
Represents a death, not a torments.
So slowly on a slope of a mountains,
On the sun with a sparks shining,
The block snow falls down.
By an instant cold is poured,
Onegin to the young man hastens,
Looks, calls him... In vain:
Him is not. The young singer
Has found the untimely end!
The storm has breathed, a fine colour
has faded at a morning dawn,
A fire on an altar has gone out! .

XXXII

He is immovable lay, and strange
There was a languid world of him forehead.
Under a breast through out he has been wounded;
Smoking from a wound a blood flew.
Ago one instant
In this heart an inspiration fought,
An enmity, hope and love,
Are played life, a blood has boiled, -
Now, as in a house deserted,
All in him and is silent and is dark;
It has deaf for ever.
A shutters, windows are closed by a chalk
Are whited. A mistresses are not.
And where is, God knows. The trace was gone also.

XXXIII

Pleasantly by an impudent epigram
To enrage the fault enemy;
It is pleasant to ripen, as he is obstinately
Having inclined a butting horns,
Involuntarily in a mirror is looked
And to know himself is ashamed;
It is more pleasant, if he, friends,
Will raise a howl foolishly: this I am!
Even more pleasantly in a silence
For him to prepare a fair coffin
And silently to aim in a pale forehead
On a noble distance;
But to send him to fathers
Hardly either will be pleasant to you.

XXXIV

Well, if by your pistol
The young friend is struck,
By an immodest sight, or by an answer,
Or by a trifle other
Offended you behind a bottle,
Or even own in an ardent annoy
Proud caused you on a fight,
Tell: by you soul
What feeling will seize,
When immovable, on the earth
Before you with a death on a forehead,
He gradually grows stiff,
When he is deaf and silent
On your desperate appeal?

XXXV

In a melancholy a hearty rattling,
By an arm having squeezed a pistol,
Looks on Lensky Evgeny.
'Well, what is? He is killed', - the neighbour did solved.
Is killed! . This terrible exclaim
Is struck, Onegin with a shiver
Departs and calls people.
Zaretsky carefully puts
On a sledge a corpse frozen;
Home he carries a terrible treasure.
Feeled a dead, snored
And beated horses, by a white foam
Wet the steel bit,
And have departed as an arrow.

XXXVI

My friends, it is a pity to you the poet:
In a colour of a joyful hopes,
Its not having made for a light,
Hardly from an infantile clothes,
Has faded! Where a roast weary,
Where a noble aspire
And feelings and thoughts of an young,
A high, gentle, daring?
Where is a rough love desire,
And thirst of a knowledge and work,
And a fear of a defect and shame,
And you, a treasured dreaming,
You, a phantom of a life unearthly,
You, a dreams of a poetry sacred!

XXXVII

Perhaps, he for the world bless
Or though for a glory has been born;
Him mute lyre could ups
A rattling, continuous ring
In a centuries. The poet,
Perhaps, at a light steps
The high step did waited.
Him suffering shade,
Perhaps, has carried away with itself
A sacred secret, and for us
The life-giving voice has die,
And for a tombe line
To her the hymn of a times will not rushed quickly,
A bless wording of a tribes.

XXXVIII. XXXIX

And can be and so: the poet
The ordinary destiny has wait.
Would pass an youth of an years:
In him a soul heat would has grown cold.
In a many respects he would change,
Would leave a muses, do married,
In a village, is happy and horned,
Would carry a quilted dressing gown;
Would learn a life actually,
Would have a gout in a forty years,
A saws, ate, has missed, got fat, decayed,
And at last in the bed
Would die among a children,
A whining women and doctors.

XL

But whatever was, the reader,
Alas, the lover young,
The poet, the thoughtful dreamer,
Is killed by a friendly hand!
There is a place: to the left from a settlement,
Where there lived the pupil of an inspiration,
Two pines have grown together with a roots;
Under its a streams was curved
A stream neighbor valleys.
There the plowman likes to have a rest,
And a zhnitsa in a waves to immerse
A sonorous jugs come;
There at a stream in a shade dense
The simple monument is standed.

XLI

Under it (as starts to drip
A spring rain on a cereal of a fields)
The shepherd, spinning a motley bast shoe,
Sings about Volga fishers;
And the townswoman young,
In a village pass a summer,
When a headlong saddle she
Rushes on a fields alone,
Stopped a horse before him,
A belted occasion having pulled,
And, a crape from a hat having turned on,
By an eyes fluent reads
A simple inscription - and tear
Do foggy a gentle eyes.

XLII

And by a step goes in an open country,
In a dreaming sink, she do;
A soul in her long necessarily
by a Lensky destiny is full;
And thinks: 'What is something with Olga became?
Whether in her a heart long did suffered,
Or soon a tears time has passed?
And where is now her sister?
And where is et the fugitive of people and a light,
A fashionable beautines fashionable enemy,
Where is this cloudy odd fellow,
The murderer of the young poet? '
In a due course the report I to you
In detail about all I will give,

XLIII

But not now. Though I am hearty
Love my hero,
Though I will come back to it, of course,
But me now not to him.
An years at a severe prose clines,
An years a rhyme rascal clines,
And me - with a sigh admit -
Behind it lazier I do dragged.
To an ancient feather is not hunting
To soil a flying sheets;
Other, cold dreams,
Other, strict cares
Both in an noise of a light and in a calm
Disturbs a dream of my soul.

XLIV

I have learnt a voice of other desires,
I have learnt a new grief;
For the first there are no to me a hopes,
And the old grief is to me a pity.
A dreams, dreams! Where is your sweet?
Where, an eternal rhyme to it, an youth?
Either indeed at last
Its wreath has fade, has fade?
Either and straight and really
Without an elegia inventions
The spring of day mine has flown
(What I joking repeated hitherto) ?
And to it either return is not present?
Whether be to me soon a thirty years?

XLV

So, my midday has come, and it is necessary
To me in that to confess, I see.
But well: we will say goodbye amicably,
Oh youth easy mine!
I thank for an en-sweeting,
For a grief, for a lovely torment,
For a noise, for a storms, for a feasts,
For an everything, for all your gifts;
I thank you. You,
Among an alarms and in a silence,
I have taken a pleasure... And quite;
There is enough! With a clear soul
I am started up nowadays in a new way
From a former life to have a rest.

XLVI

Give I will look back. Forgive, a shade,
Where my days flew in a solitude,
Are executed a passions and laziness
And a dreams of a thoughtful soul.
And you, young inspiration,
Excite mine imagination,
A heart somnolence revive,
In my corner arrive is more often,
Do not allow to cool down to a soul of the poet,
To become cruel, to be stale,
And at last to stone up
In a pernicious ensinging of a light,
In this whirlpool, where with you
I bathe, dear friends! {40}


CHAPTER THE SEVENTH

Moscow, the Russia daughter is favourite,
Where an equal to you to find?

Dmitriev.

How do not to love native Moscow?

Baratynsky.

A persecution to Moscow! That means to see a light!
Where be is better?
Where we are not.

Griboedov.

I

Herded by a vernal beams,
From a neighbouring mountains already a snow
Have run away by a muddy streams
On the sunk meadows.
By clear smile the nature
Through the sleep meets a morning of an year;
Be blue a heavens shine.
Still transparent, a woods
As though by a down turn green.
A bee behind a tribute field-en
Flies from a wax cell.
A valleys dry and motley;
A herds rustle, and a nightingale
Yet sang in a silence of a nights.

II

As sad to me an you phenomenon,
A spring, a spring! A love time!
What a languid weary
In my soul, in my blood!
With a same heavy em-sweeting
I enjoy by an embreating
In the face to me a blowing spring
On a bosom of a rural silence!
Or to me it is alien in-sweeting,
And everything that pleases, en-vives,
Everything that exults and shines
Attract a bores and muddle
On a dead soul for a long time
And all to it seems darkly?

III

Or, not joying to return
In the autumn a fallen leafs,
We remember a bitter loss,
Listening to a new noise of a woods;
Or with the nature revivered
We call by a thought confused
A fading of our years,
To which a revivering is not?
Perhaps, to a thoughts to us comes
Among a poetic dream
an other, an old spring
And in a trembling a heart to us results
By a dream about a far party,
About a wonderful night, about the moon...

IV

Here a time: a kind idlers,
An epikurejtsy- a wise men,
You, an indifferent lucky persons,
You, a Levshin's schools {41} baby birds,
You, a rural Priamy`s,
And you, a sensitive ladies,
The spring in a village calls you,
It is time of a heat, colours, works,
It is time of a walks inspired
And a seductive nights.
In a fields, friends! Faster, faster,
In the carriages heavy loaded,
On a long or on a post
Lasts from an outposts town.

V

And you, the reader favourable,
In the carriage writing out
Leave a hailstones unruly,
Where you had fun in the winter;
With my muse capricious
Do goes to listen to a noise of an oak grove
Over an unnamed river
In a village, where my Evgeny,
The eremite, an idle and sad,
Still recently veins in the winter
In the neighbourhood of young Tanya,
My dreamess darling,
But where him is not now...
Where sad he has left a trace.

VI

Between the mountains, lying by a semicircle,
Let's go there, where a streamlet,
Screwed, runs a green meadow
To the river through a lime woody.
There a nightingale, for a spring a lover,
All night long sings; a dogrose blossoms,
And the talk of a key is audible, -
There the stone death is visible
In a shade of a two pines obsoleted.
The inscription speaks to a comer:
'Vladimir Lensky here lies,
The victim early by a death courageous,
In such year, such years.
Be rest, the young man-poet! '

VII

On a branch of a bent pine,
Happened, an early breeze
Over this urn restrained
Swung a mysterious wreath.
Happened, in a late leisures
Here a two girlfriends went,
And on a tomb under the moon,
Having embraced, they do cried.
But nowadays... A sad monument
Is forgotten. To it a habitual trace
Has decayed. The wreath on a branch is not;
One, under it, The grey-haired and sickly
Shepherd by a former sings
And the poor footwear he spins.

IX. X

My poor Lensky! Pining,
Not long she do cried.
Alas! The young bride
To the grief is not be.
Another has carried away her attention,
Another was in time her suffer
By a love flattery to lull,
The uhlan was able to captivate her,
The uhlan is loved by her soul...
And here with him before an altar
She is bashful under a wreath
Stands with a hung head,
With a fire in a dumped eyes,
With a smile easy on a lips.

XI

My poor Lensky! Behind a tomb
Within a deaf eternity
Whether was confused, the sad singer,
By a fatal message of a changes,
Or over Year lulled
The poet, by a loss of a feeling the blissful,
Is not confused anything,
And the world to him is closed and muted? .
So! An indifferent forgetting
Behind a coffin expects us.
An enemies, friends, lovesses a voice
Suddenly mute. About an one estate
A successors angry chorus
Gets an obscene dispute.

XII

And soon a sonorous voice of Olya
In family Lariny has stopped.
The uhlan, the slave of own share,
Should go with her to a regiment.
By a tears bitterly having a pour,
The old woman, to the daughter saying goodbye,
It seemed, hardly she was live,
But Tanya could not cry;
By only mortal pallor has become covered
Her sad person.
When all left on a porch,
And everyone, saying goodbye, do fussed
Round the carriage of an young,
Tatyana spent them.

XIII

And long, as through a fog,
She looked them after...
And here one, one Tatyana!
Alas! The girlfriend of a so much years,
Her young pigeon-ine,
Her native confidante,
By a destiny afar brought,
With her forever is separated.
As the shade she without the purpose wanders,
So looks in a deserted garden...
Anywhere, in what to her is not present a please,
And a en-lighting she does not find
To a suppressed tears,
And a heart is torn half-and-half.

XIV

And in a cruel loneliness
More strongly her passion burns,
And about far Onegin
To her a heart speaks more loudly.
She him will not see;
She should hate in him
The murderer of own brother;
The poet was doom... But him
Nobody remembers, to another
Him bride do to gave.
The poet memory was carried by
As a smoke on the blue sky,
About him two hearts, maybe,
Still long... On somewhat to long? .

XV

There was an evening. The sky grew dim. A waters
Were streamed silently. The bug buzzed.
Yet a horovods gone apart;
Behind the river, smoking, flared
A fire is fishing. In the pure field,
Under the moon silvery light,
Shipped in own dreams
Tatyana long went alone.
Went, went. And suddenly before herself
From a hill sees the mister house,
A settlement, a grove under a hill
And a garden over a light river.
She looks - and a heart in her
Was hammered more often and more strongly.

XVI

Her doubts confuse:
'I will go either forward, I will go whether back? .
Him here is not present. Do not know me...
I will look at the house, on this garden '.
And here Tatyana descends from a hill,
Hardly breathing; leads round
Un-understanding a full look...
And enters on a deserted court yard.
To her, do a bark, dogs have rushed.
On her shout frightened
A children a court family
Has run together noisy. Not without a fight
A boys have dispersed a dogs,
Taking the young lady under own cover.

XVII

'Whether to see the lordly house is impossible? ' -
Tanya has asked. Faster
To Anisya a children have run
At her a keys to take from an outer entrance hall;
Anisya immediately to her came,
And the door before them was opened,
And Tanya enters into the house empty,
Where there is lived recently our hero.
She looks: forgotten in a hall
A kiy on a billiards had a rest,
On the crumpled canape lay
A manege splash. Tanya go afar;
The old woman to her: 'And here a fireplace;
Here the barin sit one.

XVIII

Here with him has a supper in winter
The dead Lensky, our neighbour.
Here welcome, for me.
Here it is a lordly office;
Here it rested, cofe ate,
To the salesman reports listened
And the book in the morning read...
And the old barin here was lived;
With me, happened, on Sunday,
Here under a window, having put on an oculars,
Has desired to play in a little fools.
God give to him soul a safe-ing,
And to him bones a rest
In a tomb, in the crude mother-earth! '

XIX

Tatyana by a sight sweetty
Round herself at all looks,
And all seems to her invaluable,
All vive a languid soul
By a semipainful joy:
And a table with a dim icon lamp,
And a heap of a books, and under a window
The bed covered by a carpet,
And a kind in a window through a lunar twilight,
And this pale twilight,
And lord Byron a portrait,
And a column with a pig-iron dole
Under a hat with a cloudy forehead,
With the hands compressed by a cross.

XX

Long Tatyana in a fashionable cell
As fascinated stands.
But is late. The wind has rise cold.
Darkly in a valley. The grove sleeps
Over a foggy river;
The moon was hid for a maintain,
And a young piligrimess
It is time, for a long time it is time to go home.
And Tanya, having hidden own weary,
To do not to sighing,
Is started up in a way back.
But before asks an admit
The deserted tower to visit,
to do a books here alone to read.

XXI

Tatyana with a keykeepess has said goodbye
Behind a collars. After a day
In the morning early again she come
In the lefted shade.
And in a silent office,
Having forgotten all on a light,
Remained at last alone,
And long she do cried.
Then to a books she did accepted.
At first to her no time for its,
But its choice has seemed
To her is strange. To a reading indulged
Tatyana has by a gready soul;
And to her the other world has opened.

XXII

Though we know that Evgeny
Long ago a reading has stopped loving,
However et some creations
He has excluded from a disgrace:
A singer of Gyaur and Zhuan
Yes with him more a two-three novels,
In which the century was reflected
And a modern person
Is represented truly enough
With him immoral soul,
Selfish and dry,
To a dreaming betrayed immensely,
With him embittered mind,
Boiling in an operation empty.

XXIII

Stored a many pages did
A mark sharp of a nails;
An eyes of the attentive maiden
Are directed on them more live.
Tatyana sees with a trembling,
By a what thought, notice
There was Onegin is amazed,
In what silently he did agreed.
On their fields she meets
A lines of him pencil.
Everywhere Onegin soul
Itself involuntarily expresses
So by a short word, so by a cross,
So by an interrogative hook.

XXIV

And begins gradually
My Tatyana to understand
Now is clearer - thank to God -
That, on a whom she to sigh
Is condemned by the imperious destiny:
The odd fellow sad and dangerous,
A creation of a hell or heavens,
This angel, this haughty demon,
What et he be? Really an imitation,
An insignificant phantom, or still
The muscovite in a Garold raincoat,
Another's whims toldation,
A words fashionable full lexicon? .
Whether is a parody him?

XXV

Yet a riddle has resolved?
Really the word is found?
A hours run; she has forgotten,
That houses wait for her for a long time,
Where two neighbours have gathered
And where about her there is a talking.
- How to be? Tatyana is not the child, -
The old woman said groaning. -
After all than her Olenka is younger.
To attach the girl, soon-soon,
It is time; and what to me to do with her?
All flatly the same and same:
Un-go. And all longs it,
Yes one wanders on woods.

XXVI

'She is not enamoured either? ' - in whom et?
Buyanov asked in marriage: refusal.
To Ivan Petushkov - too.
Hussar Pyhtin has stayed at us;
As he was seduced by Tanya,
As by a small demon he was scattered!
I thought: will go perhaps;
Where! And a matter has again apart. -
'Well, the mother? Behind yet what became?
In Moscow, on a fair of a brides!
There, it is audible, is many idle places '.
- Oh, my father! The income has not enough. -
'There is enough for one winter,
Not that though I give on a loan '.

XXVII

The old woman has very much liked
A reasonable and good council;
Has got even - and has there and then put
To Moscow to go in the winter.
And Tanya hears this news.
On a court to an exacting light
To present a clear lines
Of a provincial simplicity,
And an overdue dresses,
And an overdue warehouse of a speeches;
The Moscow dandies and tsyrtsy
To involve a quizzical glances! .
Oh a fear! No, better and more truly
In a solitude of a woods to rest to her.

XXVIII

Wake up with a first beams,
Now she in a fields hastens
And, by the sweet eyes
Them looking, speaks:
'Forgive, a peace valleys,
And you, a familiar mountains top,
And you, a familiar woods;
Forgive, a heavenly beauty,
Forgive, the cheerful nature;
I change a darling, a quiet light
On a noise of a brilliant vanities...
Forgive and you, my freedom!
Where, why I go aspired?
What to me my destiny promise? '

XXIX

Her walks is lasted more.
Now that a hillock, a stream
Do stoped necessarily
Tatyana by own charm.
She, as with an old friends,
With the groves, meadows
Still hastens to talk.
But the summer fast flies.
The autumn gold has come.
The nature is quivering, pale,
As the victim, is magnificently cleaned...
Here the north, scolding a clouds,
Has breathed, howled - and here it
There is a magician winter.

XXX

Has come, it was scattered; by a claps
Has hung on a branch of an oaks;
Has laid down by a wavy carpets
Among a fields, round a hills;
A coats with a unmoved river
Has made equally by a chubby veil;
The frost has flashed. And we are glad
To mischief of the mother of a winter.
Only a heart of Tanya is not glad to it.
Do not she go to meet a winter,
By a frosty dust to breathe
And the first snow from a bath roof
To wash the face, a shoulder and a breast:
To Tatyana the winter way is terrible.

XXXI

A departure day is delayed for a long time,
Passes and a closing date.
A forgetting thrown carrier
Is examined, again upholstered, strengthened.
Transport usual, three tilt carts
Carry a house belongings,
A vessels, chairs, chests,
A jam in a banks, mattresses,
A feather-beds, cages with a cocks,
A pots, basins et cetera,
Well, a lot of any good.
And here in a log hut between a servants
A noise, a farewell crying was made:
Conducts on a court yard an eighteen jades,

XXXII

In a seigniorial carrier them put,
The cook make a breakfast,
Load a tilt cart by a mountain,
A women, drivers quarrels.
On a lean and shaggy jade
A foreytor sits bearded,
The servants at a gate have run together
To say goodbye to a bars. And here
Have taken seat, and a respectable carrier,
Sliding, creeps for a gate.
'Forgive, a peace places!
Forgive, a lonely shelter!
I will see either you? . 'And a tears stream
At Tanya flows from an eyes.

XXXIII

When to a good education
Shall moved more a borders,
By a time (on an encounting
Of a philosophic tables,
Through a five hundred years) roads, truly,
At us will change immensely:
A highway here and here Russia,
Having connected, will cross.
A pig-iron bridges through a waters
Is stepped by an wide arch,
Let's move apart a mountains, under a water
Let's dig the impudent arches,
And the cresten world will got
At each station a tavern.

XXXIV

Now at us a roads are bad {42},
A bridges forgotten decays,
At a stations bugs yes fleas
To fall asleep a minutes do not give;
A taverns are not. In a cold log hut
A grandiloquent, but a hungry
For the sake of an appearance the price-list hangs
And a vain appetite teases,
Meanwhile as a rural cyclops
Before a sluggish fire
By a russian hammer treats
A lung product of Europe,
Blessing a tracks
And a ditches of the father earth.

XXXV

But at cold winters times
A driving is pleasant and easy.
As a verse without thought in a fashionable song,
A winter road is smooth.
Ours avtomedons are brisk,
Our three are tireless,
And a versts, amusing an idle look,
In an eyes flashs, as a fence {43}.
Unfortunately, Larina was dragged,
Being afraid of an expensive runs,
Not on a post, on own,
And our maiden has taken pleasure
By a road boredom quite:
Seven days they went.

XXXVI

But here it is near. Before them
Et white-stones Moscow
As a heat, by a crosses golden
An ancient heads burn.
Ah, brothers! As I was happy,
When a churches and belltowers,
A gardens, a halls semicircle
Has opened before me suddenly!
As it is frequent in s sad separation,
In my wandering destiny,
Moscow, I thought of you!
Moscow... As it is a lot of in this sound
For a russian heart has merged!
As it is a lot of in it has responded!

XXXVII

Here, it is surrounded by an oak grove,
The Petrovsky tower. Gloomy it
Is proud of a recent glory.
In vain Napoleon has waited,
By a last happy intoxicated,
Moscow bended knee
With a keys of the old Kremlin:
No, my Moscow has not gone
To him with a guilty head.
Not a holiday, not a reception gift,
She prepared a fire
To the impatient hero.
Then, in a thought he is shipped,
He did looked on a terrible blame.

XXXVIII

Farewell, the witness of the fallen glory,
The Petrovsky tower. Well! Do not stand,
Has gone! Already an outpost pillars
Grow white: here on Tver
A carrier rushes through a potholes.
A womens, boys, benches, lanterns,
Palaces, gardens, monasteries,
A buhartsy, sledge, kitchen gardens,
A merchants, лачужки, muzhiks,
Parkways, towers, cossacks,
A drugstores, shops of a fashion,
A balconies, lions on collars
And a flights of a daws on a crosses.
Flashes by a box.
XXXIX. ХL

In this tiresome walk
Passes for an hour or two, and here
At Haritonya in a lane
A carrier before the house at a gate
Has stopped. To the old aunt,
The fourth year go a patient in a consumption,
They have arrived now.
Them a door opens widely,
In an ocular, in a torn caftan,
With a stocking in a hand, the grey-haired calmyk.
Do meets them in a drawing room a shout
Of a princess, proerased on a sofa.
Old women with a cry have embraced,
And an exclaming have poured down.

ХLI

- Princess, mon аngе! -
'Rachette! ' - Alina! -
'Who could think? As for a long time!
For a long time either? The darling! The cousin!
Sit down - as it subtly!
Really, a scene from the novel...'
- And this is my daughter, Tatyana. -
'Ah, Tanya! Approach to me -
As though I rave in the sleep...
The cousin, you remember Grandison? '
- How, Grandison? . And, Grandison!
Yes, I remember, I remember. Where et he is? -
'In Moscow, lives at Simeon;
Me in Christmas Eve has visited;
Recently he married the son.

ХLII

And that... But after all we will tell,
Neither a truth? To all her relatives
We will show tomorrow Tanya.
It is a pity, to drive about is not a force to me;
Hardly, hardly I drag a feet.
But you are stirred up after the journey;
Let`s go together to have a rest...
Oh, a force is not... The breast was tired...
To me it is heavy now and a pleasure,
Not only a grief... My soul,
I am not suitable anywhere...
Under an old age a life is such muck...'
And here, absolutely tired,
In a tears she has begun to cough.

XLIII

The patient and caresses and fun
Touch Tatyana; but to her
Badly on a new house,
Got used to own room.
Under a silk curtain
It is not slept to her in a new bed,
And an early sound of a bells,
The forerunner of a morning works,
Her from a bed wake up.
Tanya at a window sits down.
The twilight thins; but she
Does not distinguish own fields:
Before her an unfamiliar court yard,
A stable, kitchen and fence.

XLIV

And here: on a related dinners
Do carry Tanya every day
To present to grandmothers and grandfathers
Her absent-minded laziness.
To the relatives which have arrived from afar,
Everywhere a tender meeting is,
And an exclaming, and a bread-salt.
'As Tanya has grown! For a long time either
I do, apparently, christened you?
And I so on hands took!
And I so for an ears tore up!
And I so fed with a spice-cake! '
And by a chorus the grandmothers repeats:
'So our years fly! '

XLV

But in them it is not visible a changes;
All is in them on the old sample:
At the aunt princess Elena
Still the same tulle cap is;
Still bleached Lukerya Lvovna is,
Still the same Ljubov Petrovna lies,
Ivan Petrovich is silly so et,
Simeon Petrovich is avaricious so et,
At Pelageya Nikolavna
Still the same friend is a monsieur Finmush,
Both the same spitz-dog, and the same husband;
And he, still a club member serviceable,
Still so he is quiet, so et he is deaf
And so et eats and drinks for two.

XLVI

Their daughters embrace Tanya.
An young grace of Moscow
At first silently looks
Tatyana from a feet to a head;
Her find something strange,
A provincial and affected,
And something pale and thin,
And however very not bad;
Then, submitting to the nature,
Are was on a friendly terms with her, to theyself conducts,
Kiss, gently press an arm,
Shake up a curls to her on a fashion
And calibrate drawlingly
A heart secrets, a secrets of a maidens,

XLVII

Another's and own victories,
A hopes, pranks, dreams.
An innocent talking flow
With a easy slander decorate.
Then, in a babble payment,
Her warm recognition
With an affection they demands.
But Tanya, precisely dreamily,
Their speeches hears without a partition,
Does not understand anything,
And a secret of own heart,
A precept treasure and tears and happy,
Stores silently meanwhile
And does not share with anybody.

XLVIII

Tatyana wishes to listen attentively
In a talking, in the general speaking;
But all in a drawing room do occupies
Such an incoherent, trite nonsense;
All in them so is pale, indifferent;
They slander even boringly;
In a fruitless dryness of a speeches,
An inquiries, gossips and messages
A thoughts will not flash in whole days,
Though accidentally, though at random;
A languid mind will not smile,
A heart, though for a joke will not tremble.
And even a ridiculous nonsenses
In you will not meet, empty light.

XLIX

An archive young men by a crowd
At Tanya prudishly looks
And about her between their
Unfavourably speaks.
One any sad clown
Finds her by an ideal
And, having leant at doors,
Prepares an elegy for her.
At a boring aunt meeting Tanya,
To her somehow Vjazemsky has sat down
And a soul to her has had time to occupy.
And, near him her having swept up,
About her, corrected a wig,
The old man enquires.

L

But there, where rough Melpomenes
The lingering howl is distributed,
Where she waves by a tinsel cloak
Before a cold crowd,
Where the Waist quietly dozes
And do friendly not listen splash,
Where to Terpsihora only alone
The young spectator marvels
(That was also in a former years,
In your and my time) ,
Have not addressed on her
Neither a ladies jealous lorgnettes,
Nor a tubes of a fashionable experts
From a boxes and chamber numbers.

LI

Her bring and in Sobrane.
There a narrowness, weary, heat,
Music a roar, a shine candles,
A splashing, a whirle of a fast pairs,
A beautines easy attires,
A people motley choruses,
A brides extensive semicircle,
All feelings amazes suddenly.
Here a note dandies shows
Own impudence, own waistcoat
And an inattentive lorgnette.
Here a holiday hussars
Hasten to be, thunders,
To flashs, to captivate and departs.

LII

At a night a stars charming are much,
A beautines are much on Moscow.
But the brightest is than a girlfriends heavenly
The moon in air blue.
But that which I do not dare
To disturb by my lyre,
As the stately moon,
Among a wives and maidens one shines.
With a same pride heavenly
To the earths she concerns!
So a luxury her breast is full!
So languid her wonderful look! .
But it is full, full; cease:
You have paid to a madness a tribute.

LIII

A noise, laughter, bustle, bows,
A gallop, mazourka, waltz... Meanwhile,
Between two aunts at a column,
Not noticed by anybody,
Tatyana looks and does not see,
A weary of a light hates;
To her is stuffy here... She by a dream
Aspires to a field life,
In a village, to poor settlers,
In a lonely corner,
Where the light streamlet flows,
To own flowers, to own novels
And in a twilight of a lime avenues,
There, where he was to her.

LIV

So her thought far wanders:
It is forgotten both light and noisy ball,
And the eye meanwhile from her not reduced
A someone important general do.
Each other aunts have blinked
And by an elbow to Tanja have at once pushed,
And everyone has whispered to her:
- Look on the left more soon. -
'On the left? Where? What is such there? '
- Well, whatever was, look...
In that small group, you see? Ahead,
There, where in an uniforms more two...
Here has departed... Here by a sideways became... -
'Who? A this thick is a general? '

LV

But here with a victory we will congratulate
My darling Tatyana
And aside own way we will direct,
Not to forget, about whom I sing...
Yes by the way, here about that two words:
I sing the young friend
And a set of him whims.
Bless my long work,
Oh you, an epic muse!
And, a true staff to me giving in a hand,
Do not allow to wander to me croke and slant.
There is enough. From a shoulders down a burden!
I have saluted a classicism:
Though late, and an entrance is.

CHAPTER THE EIGHTH

Fare thee well, and if for ever
Still for ever fare thee well.

Byron.

I

Those days, when in Lycée gardens
I serenel was blossomed,
Read willingly Apuleya,
And did Tsitseron not read,
In those days in a mysterious valleys,
In the spring, at a swan cliques,
Near the waters shining in a silence,
A muse became appear to me.
My student's cell
Has suddenly lighted up: a muse in it
Has opened a feast of an young inventions,
Has sung of a children fun,
And a glory of our olden time,
And a hearts quivering dreams.

II

And its light with a smile has met;
The first success has inspired us;
Old man Derzhavin has noticed us
And in a coffin descending, has blest.
...............
...............
...............
...............
...............
...............
...............
...............
...............
...............

III

And I, the law to myself making
A uniform arbitraring of a passions,
With a crowd do a feelings dividing,
I have resulted a quick muse
On a noise of a feasts and a violent disputes,
A thunder-storms of a midnight patrols;
And to them in a mad feasts
It bore own gifts
And as a vakhaness do froliced,
Behind a bowl sang for a visitors,
And an youth of the past days
Behind it was violently dragged,
And I was proud between a friends
By the girlfriend windy mine.

IV

But I have lagged their union
And afar ran... It for me.
As often a tender muse
To me do charmed a way mute
By a magic of a secret story!
As it is frequent on a rocks of Caucasus
She by Lenora, under the moon,
With me riddle on a horse!
As frequently on a Taurida coasts
She me in a haze night
Drove to listen a sea noise,
An un-muted whisper Nereida,
A deep, eternal chorus of a shaft,
A laudatory hymn to the father of the worlds.

V

And, having forgotten a far capitals
Both a shine and a noisy feasts,
In a solitude of sad Moldova
She go the restrained tents
Of a tribes wandering visited,
And between them was wild be,
And has forgotten a speech of a gods
For a poor, strange languages,
For a steppe songs, to her kind...
All has suddenly changed around,
And here she in my garden
Was the young provincial lady,
With a sad thought in an eyes,
With a french book in an arms.

VI

And nowadays a muse for the first time
On a secular reception {44} I income;
On her steppe charm
With a jealous shyness I look.
Through a close number of an aristocrats,
A military dandies, diplomats
And a proud ladies she slides;
Here sits silently and looks,
Admiring a noisy restrict,
By a dresses and speeches splashes,
A slow visitors become
Before the young mistress
And a dark frame of a men
Round a ladies as about a pictures.

VII

Her pleasure is an harmonous order
Of an oligarchical talkings,
And a cold of a quiet proud,
And this mix of a ranks and years.
But who is this in a crowd selected
Stands silent and foggy?
For all he seems a strangers.
A faces before him flashs
As a number of a tiresome ghosts.
That, a spleen or a suffering arrogance
In his face? Why he is here?
What is he? Either Evgeny?
Really he? . So, exactly he.
- Whether for a long time to us is he brought?

VIII

All the same either he is or was pacified?
Or poses also the odd fellow?
Tell: by what he has come back?
What will be presented he to us still?
Than nowadays is? By the melmot,
A cosmopolitan, a patriot,
Harold, a quaker, a hypocrite,
Or by a mask other he will flaunt,
Or he will be simple the good guy,
How you are yes I am, how the whole world is?
At least my council is:
To lag a fashion decayed.
Enough he did fooled a light...
- Is he know to you? - And yes and no.

IX

- Why so it is ill-disposed
You respond about him?
For that either that unruly
We strive, we judge about all,
That an ardent souls imprudence have
An ambitious negligibility
Either offends, or makes laugh,
That a mind, loving an open space, restricts,
That is too frequent, a talkings
To accept, we are glad for an affairs,
That nonsense is windy and harms,
That to an important people are important quarrels
And that an one mediocrity
To us on a shoulder and not strange?

X

That is blissful, who go young from the youth,
That is blissful, who was ripened in time,
Who gradually a cold of a life
By an years was able to bear;
Who did not betray in a strange dreams,
Who did not avoid a secular blacken,
Who in twenty years was a dandy or a holder,
And in thirty he is favourably married;
Who in fifty was released
From a private and other debts,
Who a glories, a money and a ranks
Easy in turn has achieved,
About whom a whole century has repeated:
N. N. is fine person.

XI

But sadly to think that is vain
An youth has been given to us,
Did changed to it hourly,
She has deceived us;
Is our best desires,
Is our fresh dreaming
Have decayed a fast train,
As a leaves in the rotten autumn.
It is intolerable to see before myself
By one dinners a long line,
To look at a life, as on a ceremony,
And after by a rank crowd
To go, not dividing with her
Neither the general opinions, nor a passions.

XII

By a subject becoming a judgements noisy,
Intolerably (agree in that)
Between a reasonable people
To odd the feigned fellow,
Or a sad mad man,
Or a devilish freak,
Or even my demon.
Onegin (again I will be engaged by him) ,
Killed on a duel the friend,
Lived without a purpose, without a works
Till a twenty six years,
Pining in a leisure inactivity
Without a service, without a wife, without an affairs,
In anything was not able do not hand.

XIII

The anxiety he has seized,
A hunting to change of a places
(Rather a painful property,
To a few a voluntary cross) .
It has left own settlement,
A woods and fields loneliness,
Where a blood-stained shade
To him come an every day,
And did begun a wandering without the purpose,
Accessible to a feeling only;
And a travel to him,
As all on a light, have bothered;
He has come back and has got,
As Chatsky, from the ship on a ball.

XIV

But soon the crowd has begun to hesitate,
On a hall a whisper has run...
The lady came nearer to the mistress,
Behind her the important general.
She was slow,
Is not cold, is not talkative,
Without an impudent look for all,
Without a claims on a success,
Without these small grimaces,
Without an imitation inventions...
All was silent, simple in it,
She was seemed a true picture
Du comme il faut... (Shishkov, forgive:
I do not know how to translate.)

XV

To her a ladies are moved more close;
An old women was smiled to it;
A men does bowed more low,
Caughts a look of her eyes;
A maidens goes passed more silently
Before her on a hall, and all above
Both a nose and shoulders has raised
By the general who has entered with her.
Anybody could not her a fine
To name; but from a head to a foot
Anybody could not find in her
That, by an autocratic fashion
In a high London circle
It is called vulgаr. (I can not...

XVI

I very much love this word,
But I can not translate;
It at us is till new,
And hardly to be to it in a honour.
It would suit in an epigram...)
But I address to our lady.
By a careless charm lovely,
She sat at a table
With a brilliant Nina Voronskoy,
This Kleopatra of Neva;
And truly you would agree,
That Nina by a marble beauty
Eclipse the neigbour could not,
Though was dazzling.

XVII

'Really, - Evgenie thinks: -
Really she? But exactly... No...
How! From a solitude of a steppe settlements...'
And an untied off lorgnette
He turns minutely
On that, whose a kind has reminded vaguely
To him the forgotten lines.
'Tell to me, the prince, you do not know,
Who there in a crimson beret
With the Spanish ambassador speaks? '
The prince looks at Onegin.
- Aha! For a long time you were not in the light.
Wait, you will be presented by me. -
'Yes who is she? ' - my wife. -

XVIII

'So you are married! I did not know earlier!
Whether for a long time? '- About two years. -
'On whom? ' - on Larina. - 'Tatyana! '
- You to her is a sign? - 'I am them the neighbour'.
- Oh so we will go. - the Prince approaches
To own wife and her brings
The relatives and the friend.
The princess looks at him...
And what to her a soul has confused,
How strongly neither she was
Surprised, amazed,
But to her nothing has changed:
In her same tone has remained,
Same her bow was silent.

XIX

Eh- eh! Not that to have shuddered
Or she became suddenly pale, red...
She have also the eyebrow not moved;
She has not compressed even lips.
Though he did looked impossible diligently,
But and a former Tatyana's traces
Onegin could not find.
With her he wanted to get a speech
And - and could not. She did asked,
Whether a long time ago he here, whence he is
Also neither from them parties?
Then to the spouse she has turned
A tired sight; has slipped out...
And immovable he was rested.

XX

Really that Tatyana is,
Whom he do alone,
In the beginning of our novel,
In the deaf, far party,
In a good heat a manner stady,
Read once a manual,
That, from whom he stores
The letter where heart speaks,
Where all is out, all be liberty,
That girl... Or it is a dream? .
That girl, whom he do
Neglected in a restrained share,
Really with him now was
So be indifferent, so be dared?

XXI

He leaves a reception close,
At home thoughtful he goes;
By a dream so sad, so charming
Him late dream is disturbed.
He has woken up; to him bring
The letter: prince N obediently asks
Him for the evening. 'My God! To her! .
Oh I will be, I will be! 'And faster
He soils the polite answer.
What is with him? In what strange dream he is!
What has moved in a depth
Of a cold and lazy soul?
A disappointment? A vanity? Or again
A care of a youth - love?

XXII

Onegin again count a hours,
Again will not wait to a day the end.
But ten beats; he leaves,
He has departed, he is at a porch,
He tremblingly to the princess enters;
He finds Tatyana alone,
And together a some minutes
They sit. A words do not going
From a lips of Onegina. Gloomy,
Awkward, he hardly-hardly
To her answers. Him head
Is full an obstinate thought.
Obstinately he looks: She
Sits rest and free.

XXIII

The husband comes. He interrupts
This unpleasant tete-a-tete;
With Onegin he remembers
A leprosy, a jokes of a former years.
They laughs. A visitors enters.
Here by a large salt of a secular rage
A talking began to quicken;
Before the mistress an easy nonsense
Has sparkled without a silly same-man-ness,
And interrupted it meanwhile
A reasonable sense without a trite themes,
Without an eternal trues, without a pedantry,
And did not frighten nobody's ears
By own free vivacity.

XXIV

Here there was, however, a colour of a capital,
Both the nobility, and a fashions samples,
An everywhere met faces,
A necessary fools;
Here there were a ladies elderly
In a caps and in a roses, an malicious by a vew;
Here there were some maidens,
Not a smiling faces;
Here there was an envoy speaking
About a state affairs;
Here in fragrant grey hairs
The old man was, joking in an old fashion:
Excellent thin and clever,
That is now somehow ridiculous.

XXV

Here there was on epigrams greedy,
On all the angry mister:
On a master's too sweet tea,
On a lady plane, on a tone of a men,
On a rumours about the novel foggy,
On a monogram, to two sisters given,
On a lie of a magazines, on a war,
On a snow and on own wife.
...............
...............
...............
...............
...............
...............

XXVI

Here there was Prolasov which has deserved
A popularity by a falling of a soul,
In all albums dulled,
St.-Рriest, your pencils;
In the doorway the other ball dictator
Stood by a journal picture,
The blush, as the willow cherub,
The tightened, mute and immovable,
And the stray traveller,
The re-starched impudent person,
Do raised a visitors smile
By the careful bearing,
And silently an exchanged look
To him there was a general sentence.

XXVII

But my Onegin evening whole
By Tatyana has been occupied one,
By not this girl timid,
Enamoured, poor and simple,
But by the indifferent princess,
But by the unapproachable goddess
Of magnificent, regal Neva.
Oh people! All are similar you
On progenitress Eva:
What to you is given, does not attract,
You incessantly a sneak calls
To itself, to a mysterious tree;
Submit a forbidden fruit to you:
And without that to you a paradise is not a paradise.

XXVIII

So Tatyana did changed!
How firmly in own role did entered!
How a restricted dignity
Receptions soon did accepted!
Who would dared to search a gentle little girls,
In this stately, in this negligent
Legislatoress, hall?
And he to her did excited a heart!
About him she in a gloom of night,
While Morfey will not arrive,
Happened, virgin-ly longs,
To the moon she move up a languid eyes,
Dreaming with him sometime
To make the way restrained to life!

XXIX

All age are obedient to a love;
But to a young, virgin hearts
Its impulses are salutary,
As a vernal storms to a fields:
In a rain of a passions they is freshen,
Both are updated, and will ripen -
And an able life gives
Both a magnificent colour and a sweet fruit.
But in an late and fruitless age,
On a turn of our years,
The trace of a dead passion is sad:
So a storms of a cold autumn
Turn a meadow into a bog
And bare a wood around.

XXX

A doubts are not present: alas! Evgeny
To Tatyana as a child is enamoured;
In a melancholy of a love thoughts
And a day and a night he spends.
Do not understand to a mind strict pines,
To her porch, a glass outer entrance hall
He approaches every day;
He do pursues her as a shade;
He is happy, if to her throws
A fluffy boa on a shoulder,
Or will touch hotly
Her hands, or will move apart
Before her a motley regiment of a liveries,
Or up the scarf to her.

XXXI

She does not notice him,
Much he fight more, though die.
Freely she accepts at home,
On a visit with him says a three words,
At times by one bow will meet,
At times awfully will not notice:
The coquetry in her is not present a drop -
A high society have not suffered him.
To turn pale Onegin begins:
Either it is not visible to her, or it is not a pity;
Onegins dries - and hardly either
Suffers now not a consumption.
All send Onegin to a doctors,
Those by a mansion send him to a waters.

XXXII

And he does not go; he before
To write to a great-grandfathers is ready
About a fast meeting; and Tatyana
And an affairs are not present (their male is that) :
And he is obstinate, does not want to lag,
Still hopes, strives;
More brave a healthy, the patient,
To the princess by a weaken hand
He writes a passionate sending.
Though a little pound in general
He do not saw in a letters in vain;
But, to know, a heartly suffering
Has come to could not him just in time.
Here to you him letter exactly.

The letter of Onegina to Tatyana

I expect all: to you will offend
A sad secret explanation.
What bitter contempt
Your proud look will represent!
What is I want? With what purpose
I will open own soul to you?
To what spiteful fun,
Perhaps, an occasion I submit!

Casually you once meeted,
Having swept up in you a tenderness spark,
I to it to believe have not dared:
To a habit darling has not a step;
Own hateful freedom
I have not wanted to lose.
One more has separated us...
An unfortunate victim Lensky has fallen...
From everything what to a heart is lovely,
Then I have torn off a heart;
The stranger for everyone, is connected by nothing,
I thought: a liberty and rest
Replacement to a happiness. My God!
So I was mistaken, so is punished.

No, constantly to see you,
Everywhere to follow you,
A smile of a lips, a movement of an eyes
To catch by an enamoured eyes,
To listen to you long, to understand
BY a soul an all your perfection,
Before you tormently to fade,
To turn pale and to ashed away... Here a pleasure!

And I am deprived that: for you
I am dragged everywhere to a fortune;
To me a day is expensive, to me a hour is expensive:
And in vain a boredom I spend
By a destiny a counted days.
And so its are burdensome.
I know: the century mine is measured;
But to be my life has lasted,
I should be assured in the morning,
That in the afternoon I will meet you...

I am afraid: in my restrained entreaty
Will see your severe look
A inventions of a disdained cunning -
And I hear your angry reproach.
When you would know, how is awful
To pine by a thirst a love,
To flare - and by a reason hourly
To restrain an excitement in a blood;
To wish to embrace at you a knees
And, having begun to sob, at your feet
To give vent an entreaties, a recognition, a pines,
Everything, everything, that could express,
And meanwhile by a feigned cool
To hand both a speech and a look,
To have a quiet talking,
To look at you by a cheerful sight! .

But let it be: I to myself
To oppose not in a forces more;
All is solved: I am in your will
Also I indulge in my destiny.

XXXIII

The answer is not present. He again send:
To the second, third letter
The answer is not. In one assemble
He goes; has only entered... To him
He towards. As she is severe!
Him does not see, with him no words;
Uh! As now she is surrounded
By a creshchensky cold!
How to keep an indignation
A obstinate lips want!
Onegin has fixed a sharped sight:
Where, where is a confusion, compassion?
Where a stains of a tears? . Its are not, its are not!
On this face only an anger trace...

XXXIV

Yes, maybe, a secret fear,
That the husband or a light has not guessed
A leprosy, a casual weaknesses...
Everything that my Onegin knew...
A hopes are not! He leaves,
Damns own madness -
And, in it deeply shipped,
Again he did renounced a light.
And in a silent office
To him did remembered a time,
When a cruel melancholy
Has pursued him in a noisy light,
Has caught, for a collar took
And in a dark corner has locked.

XXXV

He began to read again without analysis.
He has read the Gibbon, Russo,
Manzony, Gerder, Shamfor,
Madame de Stael, Bish, Tisso,
Has read sceptical Belya,
Has read creation Fontenelya,
Has read from ours someone,
Do not rejecting anything:
Both an almanacs, and a magazines,
Where do to us repeat a studing,
Where do so scold now me,
And where such madrigals
To myself I met sometimes:
Е sempre bene, misters.

XXXVI

Also what be? Him eyes read,
But a thoughts were far;
A dreams, desires, grieves
Were restricted in a soul deeply.
He between a printing lines
Read by a spiritual eyes
An other lines. In its he
Has been absolutely deepened.
That were a secret legend
Of a warm, dark olden time,
With no one not connected dreams,
A threats, rumours, predictions,
Or a live nonsense of a long fairy tale,
Or a letters of the young maiden.

XXXVII

And gradually in an asleeping
And a feelings and a thoughts he falls,
And before him imagination,
Own motley thrown, is the pharaoh.
That he sees: on a thawed snow,
As though a sleeping on a lodging for the night,
Immovable the young man lies,
And hears a voice: what be? Is killed.
That he sees an forgetting enemies,
A slanderers, and a malicious cowards,
And a plenty of a young traitresses,
And a circle of a companions disdained,
That the rural house - and at a window
She sits... And all is she! .

XXXVIII

He so has got usual to be lost in it,
So on hardly from a mind has not displaced
Or has not become a poet.
To admit: so-so would debt!
And exactly: a force of a magnetism
Of a russian verses of a mechanism
Soonly at that time not comprehended
My confused pupil has.
As he was resembled to a poet,
When in a corner sat alone,
And before him the fireplace has flared,
And he did purred: Веnеdеttа
Or Idol mio also did dropped
In fire so a shoe, so a magazine.

XXXIX

Days was rushed; in a air warmed
The winter was resolved;
And he has not become a poet,
Has not died, has not gone mad.
A spring did envived him: for the first time
Own rooms locked,
Where he was wintered, as a marmot,
A double windows, a small fire-place
He leaves in a clear morning,
Rushes along Neva in a sledge.
On a dark blue, secanted ices
The sun play; untidily thaws
On a streets a diged up snow.
Where on it own fast run

ХL

Onegin go streamed? You before
Have guessed yet; precisely so:
Has rushed to her, to own Tatyana
My not corrected odd fellow.
Goes, on the dead man, a similar.
There is no a soul in a hall.
He go in a hall; further: anybody.
The door he was opened. What is do him
With that force amazed?
The princess before him, alone,
Sits, is not cleaned, pale,
The letter anything she reads
And silently pours a tears by a river,
Leant on an arm by a cheek.

ХLI

Oh, who would her mute sufferings
During this fast instant has not read!
Who former Tanya, poor Tanya
Now in the princess would not known!
In a melancholy of a mad regrets
To her feet Evgeny did fallen;
She has shuddered and is silent;
And at Onegin looks
Without a surprise, without an anger...
Him patient, ashed away look,
Asking kind, mute reproach,
To her distinctly all have. The simple maiden,
With a dreams, by a heart of a former days,
Now has again revived in her.

XLII

She him do not up
And, not banding from him an eyes,
From a greedy lips do not take out
Own insensible arm...
About what now is her dreaming?
Passes a long mute,
And silently at last she go:
'Enough; up. I should
To you to be explained frankly.
Onegin, either remember that hour,
When in a garden, in an avenue us
The destiny has meet, and so submissively
Your lesson I did listened?
Today my turn.

XLIII

Onegin, I am then younger,
I was better, apparently,
And I did loved you; and what would?
What have I found in your heart?
What is an answer? An one severity.
Neither be a truth? To you there was not a news
The restrained girl love?
And now - my God! - cool a blood,
As soon as I will remember a cold sight
And this sermon... But you
I do not blame: in that terrible hour
You have go on nobly,
You were right in front me:
I am grateful by all the soul...

XLIV

Then - neither a truth? - In a desert,
Far from a vain rumour,
I was not pleasant to you... What go nowadays
Me you did pursued?
Why at you I am on a sign?
Neither therefore go in a high society
Now shown I should;
Am I rich and notable,
Is the husband in a buttle have mutilated,
Are we for that have caressed by a court yard?
Neither therefore is my shame
Now by all would be noticed,
And could in a society to bring
To you a seductive honour?

XLV

I cry... If your Tanya
You have not forgotten till now,
So know: a causticity of your abuse,
A cold, strict talking,
When in mine only would be the choose,
I would prefer to an offend passion
Both to these letters and tears.
To my infantile dreams
Then you though had a pity,
Though a respect to an ages...
And now! - What to my feet
You has resulted? What a little!
How with your heart and mind
To be a small slave of a feeling?

XLVI

And me, Onegin, this splendour,
A tinsel of a hateful life,
My successes in a whirlwind of a light,
My fashionable house and evenings,
What is in its? Now to give I am glad
All this rags of a masquerade,
All this shine, both a noise, and a smog
For a shelf of a books, for a wild garden,
For our poor dwelling,
For those places, where for the first time,
Онегин, I saw you,
Yes for a restrained cemetery,
Where now a cross and a shade of a branches
Over my poor nurse...

XLVII

And the happiness was so probably,
So close! . But my destiny
Is solved. Carelessly,
Perhaps, I have a go:
Me with a tears of a spells
A mother ask; for poor Tanya
All lots were equal...
I have married. You should,
I ask you, to leave me;
I know: in your heart is
Both a proude and a right honour.
I love you (What to dissemble to?) ,
But I am given to another;
I to him will be true a century '.

XLVIII

She has left. Stand Evgeny,
As though by a thunder do amazed.
In what storm of a sensations
Now he is shipped by a heart!
But a spurs sudden the ring was distributed,
And a Tatyana husband did seemed,
Here again my hero,
In a minute, malicious for him,
The reader, we will leave now,
For a long time... For ever. Behind him
There is enough we by an one way
Does knocked about the world. We will congratulate
Each other with a coast. Hurrah!
For a long time (Neither a truth?) it is time!

XLIX

Whoever was you, oh my reader,
The friend, the foe, I want with you
To leave now as the friend.
Forgive. What would you for me
Here searched in a negligent stanzas,
Whether a rebellious memoirs,
Either a rest from a works,
A vivant paints, or a sharp words,
Or a grammatical errors,
God give, to do in this book you
For a enjoy, for a dream,
For a heart, for a journal faults
Could find though a particle.
Behind this we aparts, forgive!

L

Forgive also and you, my strange companion,
And you, my true ideal,
And you, a live and constant,
Though small work. I with you knew
Everything that enviably for a poet:
A forgetting of a life in a storms of a light,
A sweet talking friends.
Has flown a lot of, many days
Since young Tatyana
And with her Onegin in a vague dream
Were for the first time to me -
And a distance of the free novel
I through a magic crystal
Yet do not clearly distinguished.

LI

But whom in an amicable meeting
I the first read stanzas...
Others are not present, and those afar,
As Sady sometime has told.
Without them Onegin is finished.
And that from which is formed
Tatyanas a lovely ideal...
Oh a lot of, many a fate take out!
Is blissful, who a life holiday early
Has left, not having drunk up to the bottom
A full glass of a wine,
Who did not read have its novel
And suddenly did hand to leave it,
As I did with my Onegin.

The end

Submitted: Monday, March 04, 2013
Edited: Monday, March 04, 2013


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Poet's Notes about The Poem

CHAPTER THE SIXTH

La sotto i giorni nubilosi e brevi,
Nasce una gente a cui l'morir non dole.

Petr.

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