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    © Copyright english translation Dennis Litoshick
    Email: dennis_ru@hotmail.com
    WWW: http://zhurnal.lib.ru/l/litoshik_d_n/
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I

My uncle was a man of virture,

When he became quite old and sick,

He sought respect and tried to teach me,

His only heir, verte and weak.

He had the fun, I had the sore,

But grecious goodness! what a bore!

To sit by bedplace day and night,

Not doing even step aside,

And what a cheep and cunning thing

To entertain the sad,

To serve around, make his bed,

To fetch the pills, to mourn and grim,

To sigh outloud, think along:

`God damn old man, why ain't you gone?'

Moj dyadya samyh chestnyh pravil,

Kogda ne v shutku zanemog,

On uvazhat' sebya zastavil

I luchshe vydumat' ne mog.

Ego primer drugim nauka;

No, bozhe moj, kakaya skuka

S bol'nym sidet' i dn' i noch'

Ne othodya ni shagu proch'!

Kakoe nizkoe kovarstvo

Poluzhivogo zabavlyat',

Emu podushki popravlyat',

Pechal'no podnosit' lekarstvo,

Vzdyhat' i dumat' pro sebya:

Kogda zhe chert voz'met tebya!

II

So thought a playboy, young and funny,

While riding through the dust of road,

The only heir to the money,

That got his folks with help of Lord.

My reader! if introduce I may

Without comments, right away,

Onegin, my old friend

Was born , you know, in the Niva land.

And you may have been born in there,

The place of style, the vanity fair,

Where I had spent a lot of time,

But moved - the climate wasn't fine.

Tak dumal molodoj povesa,

Letya v pyli na pochtovyh,

Vsevyshnej voleyu Zevesa

Naslednik vseh svoih rodnyh.

Druz'ya Lyudmily i Ruslana!

S geroem moego romana

Bez predislovij, sej zhe chas

Pozvol'te poznakomit' vas:

Onegin, dobryj moj priyatel',

Rodilsya na bregah Nevy,

Gde, mozhet byt', rodilis' vy

Ili blistali, moj chitatel';

Gde nekogda gulyal i ya:

No vreden sever dlya menya.

III

With record excellent and clear,

His father lived in debt,

He gave three balls in every year

And went bankrupt. How sad.

But Fate took care of Evgeniy,

She sent Madame (the French for mammy),

And later on she sent Monseur

To care of l'enfant l'hero.

Monseur l'Abbe was French and poor,

Was easy on the kid,

Tought everything a little bit,

Was not that hard on him for sure,

Sometimes did bother him with stuff,

Though wasn't tiresome or rough.

Sluzhil otlichno-blagorodno,

Dolgami zhil ego otec,

Daval tri bala ezhegodno

I promotalsya nakonec.

Sud'ba Evgeniya hranila:

Sperva Madame za nim hodila,

Potom Monsieur ee smenil.

Rebenok byl rezov, no mil.

Monsieur l'Abbe, francuz ubogij,

CHtob ne izmuchilos' ditya,

Vsemu uchil ego shutya,

Ne dokuchal moral'yu strogoj,

Slegka za shalosti branil

I v Letnij sad gulyat' vodil.

IV

As into teens, the age of riot,

The age of tender sorrow,

Evgeniy gradually followed,

Monseur l'Abbe was quicly fired.

And here Evgeniy's liberated,

His haircut is up-to-dated,

Dressed like a dandy, bright and bold,

He's being introduced to th'world.

He spoke Francais like Parisien

And danced mazurka like a feather,

He bowed at ease and posed like Ceaser-

The world dicieded he was fine.

Kogda zhe yunosti myatezhnoj

Prishla Evgeniyu pora,

Pora nadezhd i grusti nezhnoj

Monseur prognali so dvora.

Vot moj Evgenij na svobode,

Ostrizhen po poslednej mode,

Kak dandy londonskij odet

I nakonec uvidel svet.

On po-francuzski sovershenno

Mog iz®yasnyat'sya i pisal;

Legko mazurku tanceval

I klanyalsya neprinuzhdenno;

CHego zh vam bol'she? Svet reshil,

CHto on umen i ochen' mil.

V

We all have studied bit by bit

All different stuff in different ways,

Thus education's not a hit

And for this fact the Lord we praise.

Onegin was, as many thought,

(these many judged the youth a lot)

A fine smart man, a little stiff,

A one who had a lucky gift

To walk along with th'world smalltalk

And argue with done-thats' fog,

To cause the ladies' smiles

With a burst of funny rhymes.

My vse uchilis' ponemnogu

CHemu-nibud' i kak-nibud',

Tak vospitan'em, slava Bogu,

U nas ne mudreno blesnut'.

Onegin byl, po mnen'yu mnogih

(Sudej reshitel'nyh i strogih),

Uchenyj malyj, no pedant,

Imel on schastlivyj talant

Bez prinuzhden'ya v razgovore

Kosnut'sya do vsego slegka,

S uchenym vidom znatoka

Hranit' molchan'e v vazhnom spore

I vozbuzhdat' ulybku dam

Ognem nezhdannyh epigramm.

VI

The Latin`s not in fashion now,

And if I should be writing truth,

He knew enough to put things down,

To craft some poems worth of use,

To chat a bit of Uvenalus,

To reason of what causes chaos,

Could cite (though with a pause)

From Eneida a little dose.

He didn't like historic dust,

From the Creation and so forth,

How long ago looked like the Earth,

But anecdotes - his real lust,

The scores of them till our days

Evgeniy's memory thus saves.

Latyn' iz mody vyshla nyne:

Tak, esli pravdu vam skazat',

On znal dovol'no po-latyne,

CHtob epigrafy razbirat',

Potolkavat' o YUvenale,

V konce pis'ma postavit' vale,

Da pomnil, hot' ne bez greha,

Iz |neidy dva stiha.

On ryt'sya ne imel ohoty

V hronologicheskoj pyli

Bytopisaniya Zemli;

No dnej minuvshih anekdoty,

Ot Romula do nashih dnej,

Hranil on v pamyati svoej.

VII

Nor being gifted with the passion,

That's strong enough to burn in rhymes,

We couldn't teach him how to differ

The music of poetic size.

He scolded Homer, Pheocrith,

But praised the work of Adam Smith.

He was a good ecomonist,

E.g. he had a clue amidst

The ways a state becometh richer

And why it doesn't have to feature

Wealth in gold in treasury

But should in terms of goods measure it.

His father did't get all these

And lands're gone to pawn and lease.

Vysokoj strasti ne imeya

Dlya zvukov zhizni ne shchadit',

Ne mog on yamba ot horeya,

Kak my ne bilis', otlichit'.

Branil Gomera, Feokrita;

Zato chital Adama Smita,

I byl glubokij ekonom,

To est' umel sudit' o tom,

Kak gosudarstvo bogateet

I chem zhivet i pochemu

Ne nuzhno zolota emu,

Kogda prostoj produkt imeet.

Otec ponyat' ego ne mog

I zemli otdaval v zalog.

VIII

All skills that had my friend Evgeniy

I won't enclose for they are many

But where ingenious he was,

The science he knew as well as gods,

What was to him from early days,

A labor, pleasure, mystic maze,

What took his time from dawn till dawn,

What entertained him all along -

That was the science of tender passion,

So praised by Nazonus the Poet,

Exiled away, away for it,

Away to Moldova's step

Away from Italy's home lap.

Vsego, chto znal eshche Evgenij,

Perechislyat' mne nedosug;

No v chem on istinnyj byl genij,

CHto znal on tverzhe vseh nauk,

CHto bylo dlya nego izmlada

I trud, i muka, i otrada,

CHto zanimalo celyj den'

Ego toskuyushchuyu len',-

Byla nauka strasti nezhnoj,

Kotoruyu vospel Nazon,

Za chto stradal'cem konchil on

Svoj vek blestyashchij i myatezhnyj

V Moldavii, v glushi stepej,

Vdali Italii svoej.

IX

X

How early learnt the art to mimic,

The art to desperate and hope,

To be all faithful and cynic,

To seem sometimes he lacks a rope,

To be once proud, then all humble,

To touch your heart, then have it cramble,

How wordy was he being silent,

In speech he sparckled like a diamond,

In passion notes how was he tender,

While living one, while loving one,

Forgets himself for darling dame.

And in his eyes reflects her splendor,

And how he's bold and shy and dear,

Conclusing looks with servile tears.

Kak rano mog on licemerit',

Tait' nadezhdu, revnovat',

Razuveryat', zastavit' verit',

Kazat'sya mrachnym, iznyvat',

YAvlyat'sya gordym il' poslushnym,

Vnimatel'nym il' ravnodushnym!

Kak tomno byl on molchaliv,

Kak plamenno krasnorechiv,

V serdechnyh pis'mah kak nebrezhen!

Odnim dysha, odno lyubya,

Kak on umel zabyt' sebya!

Kak vzor ego byl bystr i nezhen,

Stydliv i derzok, a poroj

Blistal poslushnoyu slezoj!

XI

How good he was in staying fresh,

Amazing modesty is easy,

To frighten with a desperate dash,

With flattery make feel you dizzy,

To catch the moment of excitement,

To try to strip the moral garnment,

To win with passion and cold mind

With innocent upbringing fight,

Demanding, praying for a `yes',

To listen how the heart is beating,

And get agreement for a meeting

(All after shadowing and chase),

And after that with hungry vilence

To give her lessons in the silence!

Kak on umel kazat'sya novym,

SHutya nevinnost' izumlyat',

Pugat' otchayan'em gotovym,

Prelestnoj lest'yu zabavlyat',

Lovit' minutu umilen'ya,

Nevinnyh let predubezhden'ya

Umom i strast'yu pobezhdat',

Nevol'noj laski ozhidat',

Molit' i trebovat' priznan'ya,

Podslushat' serdca pervyj zvuk,

Presledovat' lyubov' i vdrug

Dobit'sya tajnogo svidan'ya...

I posle ej naedine

Davat' uroki v tishine.

XII

How young he was when learnt to hush

The hearts of women, young and not,

And easy was for him to crush

The other men with acid mots,

If dared they to cross with him!

His traps are poisonous, firm!

But you, naive and simple men,

Still kept Evgeniy as a friend,

He was a guest of honour for

A cheated husband,

Cheating husband,

The one who weekly pays a whore,

And fat old folks who're always glad

With having wife and being fed.

Kak rano mog uzh on trevozhit'

Serdca koketok zapisnyh!

Kogda zh hotelos' unichtozhit'

Emu sopernikov svoih,

Kak on yazvitel'no zloslovil!

Kakie seti on gotovil!

No vy, blazhennye muzh'ya,

S nim ostavalis' vy druz'ya:

Ego laskal suprug lukavyj,

Foblasa davnij uchenik,

I nedoverchivyj starik,

I rogonosec velichavyj,

Vsegda dovol'nyj sam soboj,

Svoim obedom i zhenoj.

XIII. XIV

********

XV

He used to lay still in the bed,

Receiving cards and reading letters,

Three invitations daily had

Three households write that he matters,

One to a party, one to ball...

So where should Evgeniy go?

It doesn't matter where go first,

He'll pay a visit t'every host,

But now so far he's dressed for walking,

In a stylish hat on rendez-vous,

Evgeniy's out to Avenue,

Enjoying air and no talking.

He stays out there till the watch

Rings time for lunch and shot of scotch.

Byvalo, on eshche v posteli,

K nemu zapisochki nesut.

CHto? Priglashen'ya? V samom dele,

Tri doma na vecher zovut:

Tam budet bal, tam detskij prazdnik?

Kuda zh poskachet moj prokaznik?

S kogo nachnet on? Vse ravno:

Vezde pospet' nemudreno.

Pokamest v utrennem ubore,

Nadev shirokij bolivar,

Onegin edet na bul'var

I tam gulyaet na prostore,

Poka nedremlyushchij breget

Ne prozvonit emu obed.

XVI

It's dark by now; in slegh he climbs,

`Go, go!' - the driver yells at horses,

Evgeniy's fur coat's silverazed

With diamond dust of Russian frosties.

Now he's headed to Talon's, where

His pale Kaverin waits out there.

He enters. The bottle cork hits th'ceiling,

Knocked out by its seething filling.

In front of him a stake with blood,

And truffles - (danties for him)-

The best of th'best of French cousine,

And Strassburg pie - the treat of gods-

And Limbourg cheese witha touch of moulding,

And a pineapple, cut and golden.

Uzh temno: v sanki on saditsya.

Padi, padi! - razdalsya krik;

Moroznoj pyl'yu serebrit'sya

Ego bobrovyj vorotnik.

K Talon pomchalsya: on uveren,

CHto tam uzh zhdet ego Kaverin.

Voshel i probka v potolok,

Vina komety bryznul tok,

Pred nim roast-beef okrovavlennyj

I tryufl', roskosh' yunyh let,

Francuzskoj kuhni luchshij cvet,

Iz Strazburga pirog netlennyj

Mezh syrom limburgskim zhivym

I ananasom zolotym.

XVII

And more of goblets the thirst's demanding,

To cool the heat in belly,

But here's a clock a message sending:

It's time to go to th'Ballet.

As an evil demon of the stage,

In actresses' chasing being a mage,

A dark warlord behind the scenes,

Who's ready get it with all means,

Evgeniy's on the way th'Ballet,

The place where liberties and farrie

Rule, and chock in claps just any dance

Is quite O.K., and hence

A viewer's a participant

(And feels a lot more important)

Eshche bokalov zhazhda prosit

Zalit' goryachij zhir kotlet,

No zvon bregeta im donosit,

CHto novyj nachalsya balet.

Teatra zloj zakonodatel',

Nepostoyannyj obozhatel'

Ocharovatel'nyh aktris,

Pochetnyj grazhdanini kulis,

Onegin poletel k teatru,

Gde kazhdyj, vol'nost'yu dysha,

Gotov ohlopat' entrechat,

Obshikat' Fedru, Kleopatru,

Moinu vyzvat' ( dlya togo,

CHtob tol'ko slyshali ego).

XVIII

Volshebnyj kraj! tam v stary gody,

Satiry smelyj vlastelin,

Blistal Fonvizin, drug svobody,

I pereimchivyj Knyazhnin;

Tam Ozerov nevol'ny dani

Narodnyh slez, rukopleskanij

S mladoj Semenovoj delil;

Tam nash Katenin voskresil

Kornelya genij velichavyj;

Tam vyvel kolkij SHahovskoj

Svoih komedij shumnyj roj,

Tam i Didlo venchalsya slavoj,

Tam, tam pod sen'yu kulis

Mladye dni moi neslis'.

XIX

My goddesses where are you now?

Please be my humble prayers facing.

Are you the same or other farries somehow

Took votre place, but not replacing.

And will I ever be seduced

While watching dancing Russian muse,

Your souls' inspired flight,

Or bored eye shall not then find

Familiar faces in the show,

And, gazing at the others' f*t

Through a fatigue lornette,

I, being in my spirits low,

I will be yawning all along,

Recalling days that now are gone.

Moi bogini! chto vy? gde vy?

Vnemlite moj pechal'nyj glas:

Vse te zhe l' vy? drugie l' devy

Smeniv, ne zamenili vas?

Uslyshu l' vnov' ya vashi hory?

Uzryu li russkoj Terpsihory

Dushoj ispolnennyj polet?

Il' vzor unylyj ne najdet

Znakomyh lic na scene skuchnoj,

I, ustremiv na skuchnyj svet

Razocharovynnyj lornet,

Vesel'ya zritel' ravnodushnyj

Bezmolvno budu ya zevat'

I o bylom vospominat'?

XX

The house's full. The boxes packed with diamonds and fashions

The pit is boiling, crowded and loud,

The stalls are clapping with impatience,

And here it is - the curtain is on rise with sound.

Amazing, airy and radiant

To move of magic bow obidient

Istomina, surrounded by nymphs,

Is flying on some wings, not limbs,

While touching stage with one of feet,

She jumps and in the air flits,

And dances like a dawn or feather,

Or is it body's song? Or either?

Teatr uzh polon, lozhi bleshchut;

Parter i kresla, vse kipit;

V rajke neterpelivo pleshchut,

I, vzvivshis', zanaves shumit.

Blistatel'na, polumozdushna,

Smychku volshebnomu poslushna,

Tolpoyu nimf okruzhena,

Stoit Istomina; ona,

Odnoj nogoj kasayas' pola,

Drugoyu medlenno kruzhit,

I vdrug pryzhok, i vdrug letit,

Letit, kak puh ot ust |ola;

To stan sov'et, to razoviet,

I bystro nozhkoj nozhku b'et.

XXI

Burst of applause. Onegin enters,

And makes his way on someone's feet.

And through th'lornette he glances

To study ladies in the pit.

He looked all the circles through,

He is upset - there're beaties not a few.

Then he exchanged bows with the men around,

And no vogue dresses found.

And after that he took,

While yawning

For the show was boring,

At the stage a vacant look:

I'm sick with ballets - so he said-

And down with music and all that

VsŁ hlopaet. Onegin vhodit,

Idet mezh kresel po nogam,

Dvojnoj lornet, kosyas' navodit,

Na lozhi neznakomyh dam;

Vse yarusy okinul vzorom,

Vse videl: licami, uborom

Uzhasno nedovolen on;

S muzhchinami so vseh storon

Rasklanyalsya, potom na scenu

V bol'shom smyatenii vzglyanul,

Otvorotilsya - i zevnul,

I molvil: Vseh pora na smenu;

Balety dolgo ya terpel,

Teper' i Didlo mne nadoel.

XXII

While cupids, devils, serpents

Still do the noise in the show,

While tired footmen sleep by th'entrance

On fur-coats, hiding from the snow,

And while spectators there continue

To cough and hiss at the revu,

And while the streetlights still are on

To be alive from dusk till dawn

And horses hoof and neigh

For they are harnessed to the sleigh

And coachmen move around the fire

And gossip of those who them hired,

Look! Onegin's walking out all alone-

To get dressed up he's headed home.

Eshche amury, cherti, zmei

Na scene skachut i shumyat;

Eshche ustalye lakei

Na shubah u pod®ezda spyat;

Eshche ne perestali topat',

Smorkat'sya, kashlyat', shikat', hlopat';

Eshche snaruzhi i vnutri

Vezde blistayut fonari;

Eshche, prozyabnuv, b'yutsya koni,

Naskucha upryazh'yu svoej,

I kuchera, vokrug ognej,

Branyat gospod i b'yut v v ladoni:

A uzh Onegin vyshel von;

Domoj odet'sya edet on.

XXIII

May I describe in a truthful manner

The study, closed for everyone

Where cheperoned by vogue Evgeniy

Plays lead in th'dressing ritual,

Where all sophisticated items laid-

That picky London has to trade

For our wood and our fat-

The ones we through the Baltic get,

And whats' invented a Paris

For fun and pleasure there you see

At an eighteen-year-old

Philosopher's treshold.

Izobrazhu l' v kartine vernoj

Uedinennyj kabinet,

Gde mod vospitannik primernyj

Odet, razdet i vnov' odet?

Vse, chem dlya prihoti obil'noj

Torguet London shchepetil'nyj

I po Balticheskim volnam

Za les i salo vozit nam,

Vse, chto v Parizhe vkus golodnyj

Poleznyj promysel izbrav,

Izobretaet dlya zabav,

Dlya roskoshi, dlya negi modnoj,

Vse ukrashalo kabinet

Filosofa v os'mnadcat' let.

XXIV

Constantinople pipes with amber

And china, bronze out there exhumed

And the delight of coddled temper -

A crystal bottle of perfume,

And combs, and scissors, files for nails -

Accessories a dandy hails,

And thirty kinds of different brushes -

A real person never rushes.

Russeau (I say it by the way)

Had never got how formal Grim

Could clean his nails in front of him.

Though eloquent, but there he may

Be wrong about the case

Despite the wisdom on his face

YAntar' na trubkah Caregrada,

Farfori bronza na stole,

I chuvstv iznezhennyh otrada,

Duhi v granenom hrustale;

Grebenki, pilochki stal'nye,

Pryamye nozhnicy, krivye,

I shchetki tridcti rodov

I dlya nogtej i dlya zubov.

Russo (zamechu mimohodom)

Ne mog ponyat', kak vazhnyj Grim

Smel chistit' nogti pered nim,

Krasnorechivym sumasbrodom.

Zashchitnik vol'nosti i prav

V sem sluchae sovsem ne prav.

XXV

One can be nice and thinking person

And care of the shape of nails.

What for shall one confront the era?

Against the customs person fails.

Evgeniy's a second Chaahdaev, sought

Afraid be viewed as someone odd,

Perfection, pedantry in clothes

And as a dandy always goes.

At least he spent three hours daily

In front of looking-glass

Exterminating mess and fuss

Until he looks like Venus airy

When she put on a virile suit

And off to masquerade as a dude.

Byt' mozhno del'nym chelovekom

I dumat' o krase nogtej:

K chemu besplodno sporit' s vekom?

Obychaj despot sred' lyudej.

Vtoroj CHadaev, moj Evgenij,

Boyas' revnivyh osuzhdenij,

V svoej odezhde byl pedant

I to, chto my nazvali frant.

On tri chasa po krajnej mere

Pred zerkalami provodil,

I iz ubornoj vyhodil,

Podobnyj vetrenoj Venere,

Kogda, nadev muzhskoj naryad,

Boginya edet v maskarad.

XXVI

I might be having your attention

To detalize Evgeniy's looks:

The suit made up to the latest fashion

(of course you know it not from books)

I'm not to teach, I am to draw -

Description's what I here for.

But frac, gilet and pantalons

This words in Russian make me frown

And as I see ( and I am sorry)

That rhymes I use are full

Of borrowed words and broken rules.

I beg forgiveness for these follies

Though I used to have a look

Into the thick linguistic book.

V poslednem vkuse tualetom

Zanyav vash lyubopytnyj vzglyad,

YA mog by pred uchenym svetom

Zdes' opisat' ego naryad;

Konechno, eto bylo b smelo

Opisyvat' moe zhe delo:

No pantalony, frak, zhilet,

Vseh etih slov na ruskom net.

A vizhk ya, vinyus' pred vami,

CHto uzh i tak moj bednyj slog

Pestret' gorazdo men'she mog

Inoplemennymi slovami,

Hot' i zaglyadyval ya vstar'

V Akademicheskij slovar'.

XXVII

But let us drop linguistic edits

We'd rather hurry to the ball

To which Evgeniy's carriage's headed

Along the houses in snow,

Along St.Petersburg's ice streets

On which the East with Europe meets,

And carriage's lanterns bring the light

Into the gloomy winter night

And paint rainbows on the rime:

A mansion lighted all around

With diamonds of lanterns crowned

And one can see from time to time

Profiles of fashionable heads

Of ladies and eccentric lads.

U nas teper' ne to v predmete:

My luchshe pospeshim na bal,

Kuda stremglav v yamskoj karete

Uzh moj Evgenij poskakal.

Pered pomerkshimi domami

Vdol' sonnoj ulicy ryadami

Dvojnye fonari karet

Veselyj izlivayut svet

I radugi na sneg navodyat:

Useyan ploshkami krugo,

Blestit velikolepnyj dom;

Po cel'nym oknam teni brodyat,

Mel'kayut profili golov

I dam i modnyh chudakov.

XXVIII

Have had approched the entrance hall,

He passed the porter like an arrow,

Flew over stairsteps to the ball,

While with his hands he did the hair.

At last he's there, and there's a crowd,

The music's tired but still loud,

The folks are busy with the dances,

It's stuffed, and noisy, and glances

Are easily responded to,

The ladies whirl in tact to beat,

And shights of officers them hit,

But still they take it as their due.

And viloins' uproar surpresses

The wives' gossiping about the dances

Vot nash geroj pod®ehal k senyam;

SHvejcara mimo on streloj

Vzletel po mramornym stupenyam,

Raspravil volosy rukoj,

Voshel. Polna narodu zala;

Muzyka uzh gremet' ustala;

Tolpa mazurkoj zanyat;

Krugom i shum i tesnota;

Brenchat kavalergarda shpory;

Letayut lozhki milyh dam;

Po ih plenitel'nym sledam

Letayut poamennye vzory,

I revom skrypok zaglushen

Revnivyj shepot modnyh zhen.

XXIX

In days begone of mirth and wishes

I used to be into the balls

For they're the best without suspicions

To pass the secret passion notes.

To you, my dear wives and men,

To you my service's offered then.

Please, pay attention to my words -

I want to warn you of what hurts.

And you, oh mothers, also take

A closer look at your own girls -

The world reserves some painful falls,

Avoid them for goodness sake!

I write these things for I have not

Been sinning for l*ng, dear Lord.

Vo dni veselij i zhelanij

YA byl ot balov bez uma:

Vernej net mesta dlya priznanij

I dlya vrucheniya pis'ma.

O vy, pochtennye suprugi!

Vam predlzhu svoi uslugi;

Proshu zametit' moyu rech':

YA vas hochu predosterech'.

Vy takzhe, mamen'ki, postrozhe

Za docher'mi smotrite vsled:

Derzhite pryamo svoj lornet!

Ne to... ne to, izbavi Bozhe!

YA eto potomu pishu,

CHto sam davno uzh ne greshu.

XXX

Alas, on worldly entertainment

I've spent a lot of my lifetime,

And if there weren't degradation

I'd keep on loving balls as fine.

I love their youthfulness and glitter,

And joy, and every crowded meter,

And ladies' thought-through dress,

And love their legs, but shall confess -

One hardly can in Russia find

Some slender legs (it's fact, not fable)

But I for a long time was unable

To forget one pair that looks pleasing sight.

And sad, already cool and chilled, my heart

In dreams gets pierced with their dart.

Uvy, na raznye zabavy

YA mnogo zhizni pogubil!

No esli b ne stradali nravy

YA baly do sih por lyubil.

Lyublyu ya beshenuyu mladost',

I tesnotu, i blesk, i radost',

I dam obdumannyj naryad;

Lyublyu iz nozhki, tol'ko vryad

Najdete vy v Rossii celoj

Tri pary strojnyh zhenskih nog.

Ah! Dolgo ya zabyt' ne mog

Dve nozhki... Grustnyj, ohladelyj,

YA vse ih pomnyu, i vo sne

Oni trevozhat serdce mne.

XXXI

And when, in what unlucky hour

One can forget you? I don't believe it much.

Oh legs, oh feet, I wish to be the flower

You've stepped onto and left your touch.

You were charished in oriental bliss,

But in the snowy nothern mist

You've left no trace:

The carpet's lavish, tender face

And their softness were your domain.

I did neglect because of you

Not long ago ambitions, due,

The land of fathers, wishes, fame.

The youthful happiness dissolved as if it was a glimpse

Like on the meadows disappeared your footprints.

Kogda i gde, v kakoj pustyne,

Bezumec, ih zabudesh' ty?

Ah nozhki, nozhki! gde vy nyne?

Gde mnete veshnie cvety?

Vzleleyany v vostochnoj nege,

Na severnom pechal'nom snege

Vy ne ostavili sledov:

Lyubili myagkih vy kovrov

Roskoshnoe prikosnoven'e.

Davno l' dlya vas ya zabyval

I zhazhdu slavy i pohval,

I kraj otcov, i zatochen'e?

Ischezlo schast'e yunyh let

Kak na lugah vash legkij sled.

XXXII

Diana's brest, and Flora's cheeks,

My friends, they're truly good,

But spot where is my sight's fix

Is Terpsichore's foot.

While it prophesies me a sort

Of valuable reward,

It does attact a hive of wishes

With its beaty, solemn, precious.

I love them, dear friend Elvina,

Deep-hidden under tablecloth,

In springtime next to grass and moss,

By fireplace, seducing poor sinner,

Reflected in the glass of floor,

And on the rocks along seashore.

Diany grud', lanity Flory

Prelesny, milye druz'ya!

Odnako nozhka Terpsihory

Prelesnej chem-to dlya menya.

Ona, prorochestvuya vzglyadu

Neocenimuyu nagradu,

Vlechet uslovnoyu krasoj

ZHelanij svoevol'nyj roj.

Lyublyu ee, moj drug |l'vina

Pod dlinnoj skatert'b stolov,

Vesnoj na murave lugov,

Zimoj na chugune kamina,

Na zerkal'nom parkete zal,

U morya na granite skal.

XXXIII

I recollect the sea before the storm,

I envied waves that lilac day,

The waves that rush, they're crowned with the foam,

To knee in front of her and stay.

I wish I were a wave to touch

In kiss her feet, I wish so much!

No, never in the burning days

Of boiling youth I had this craze

To wish with such a self-contempt

To kiss the farries, face to face,

Or roses of their cheeks that blaze,

Or brests that so seduce and tempt,-

No, never th'juggernaught of passion

Struck me with such a wild aggression.

YA pomnyu more pred grozoyu,

Kak ya zavidoval volnam,

Begushchim burnoj cheredoyu

S lyubov'yu lech'k ee nogam!

Kak ya zhelal togda s volnami

Kosnut'sya milyh nog ustami!

Net, nikogda sred' pylkih dnej

Kipyashchej yunosti moej

YA ne zhelal s takim muchen'em

Lobzat' usta mladyh Armid,

Il' rozy plamennyh lanit,

Il' persi, polnye tomlen'em;

Net, nikogda poryv strastej

Tak ne terzal dushi moej!

XXXIV

I recollect some other days!

In very cherished dreams of mine,

I kiss her, drawned in happiness,

I feel her her legs in hands, and sigh.

Again imagination's seething:

Her softest touch and slightest breathing,

Have pushed the blood in fainted heart.

Again the bore, ones more love's start.

Enough of gabbling on my lyre

To celebrate the haughty ones

For they're not worthy of the fire

And songs for which inspire us.

The words and sights of enchantress

Are as delusive as her legs.

Mne pamyatno drugoe vremya!

V zavetnyh inogda mechtah

Derzhu ya schastlivoe stremya...

I nozhku chuvstvuyu v rukah;

Opyat' kipit voobrazhen'e,

Opyat' ee prikosnoven'e

Zazhglo v uvyadshem serdce krov',

Opyat' toska, opyat' lyubov'!..

No polno proslyaalyat' nadmennyh

Boltlivoj liroyu svoej;

Oni ne stoyat ni strastej,

Ni pesen, imi vdohnovlennyh:

Slova i vzor volshebnic sih

Obmanchivy... kak nozhki ih.

XXXV

But where's Evgeniy? Half-asleep,

To bedplace from the ball he's going.

The city's eyelids never meet,

And drums awaken all by rolling.

Wakes up a merchant, pedlars do,

The cabmen pass by down the rue,

Milkvendors hurry with the jugs. In dawn

The crispy snow is heard when is stepped on.

The morning's noice bids farewell to night,

The shatters are open; the chimney's smoke

Is raising up like a thick pale blue rope.

The German baker, dressed tidy and all-right,

Sits in a cotton cap, indifferent to fuss,

And greets the folks through th'open vasisdas.

CHto zh moj Evgenij? Polusonnyj

V postelyu edet s bala on:

A Peterburg neugomonnyj

Uzh barabanom probuzhden.

Vstaet kupec, idet raznoschik,

Na birzhu tyanetsya izvozchik.

S kuvshinom ohtinka bezhit,

Pod nej sneg utrennej hrustit.

Prosnulsya utra shum priyatnyj.

Otkryty stavni, trubnyj dym

Stolbom voshodit golubym,

I hlebnik, nemec akkuratnyj,

V bumazhnom kolpake, ne raz

Uzh otvoryal svoj vasisdas.

XXXVI

Worn out by the noise at the ball,

Onegin turned the dawn into the midst of night,

Now calmly sleeps, where shade has blissful fall,

Was born to luxiory, not freight.

He will wake up long after sunny noon.

The preset, same agenda is his doom

The life is steady, with only few suprises:

What's gone will come tomorrow when the Sun rises.

With freedom, living his best days,

Amidst the victories that paved his pace,

Amidst the fun and leisure

Was there happiness to measure?

Was there a thing that caused unrest

In Onegin's life's ongoing fest?

No shumom bala utomlennyj

I utro v polnoch' obratya,

Spokojno spit v teni blazhennoj

Zabav i roskoshi ditya.

Prosnetsya zapolden', i snova

Do utra zhizn' ego gotova,

Olnoobrazna i pestra.

I zavtra to zhe, chto vchera,

No byl li schastliv moj Evgenij,

Svobodnyj, v cvete luchshih let,

Sredi blistatel'nyh pobed,

Sredi vsednevnyh naslazhdenij?

Votshche li by on sred' pirov

Neostorozhen i zdorov?

XXXVII

No. His sences were blunted early,

The world's smalltalk has wearied him,

The beuties are no longer storming

His mind and cause his heart to steam.

The infidelity and cheeting... Bore.

His friends are dull, and friendship sore

For he wasn't able all the time

To pour champaigne on strassbourg pie

And joke with sharp and acid words

When headache so much hurts.

Though he's a playboy, he came to disguise

His old days habits - swords and whist.

Net, rano chuvstva v nem ostyli,

Emu naskuchilsveta shum;

Krasavicy na dolgo byli

Predmet ego privychnyh dum;

Izmeny utomit' uspeli;

Druz'ya i druzhba nadoeli,

Zatem, chto ne vsegda zhe mog

Beef-steaks i strassburgskij pirog

SHampanskoj oblivat' butylkoj

I sypat' kolkie slova,

Kogda bolela golova;

I hot' on byl povesa pylkij,

No razlyubil on nakonec

I bran', i sablyu, i venec.

XXXVIII

The cause of this decease's unseen

The diagnosis - always solid:

The English word for that is spleen,

Khandrah is what the Russans call it.

And step by step the spleen took over,

But, praise the Lord, his mind was sober

Not to let him shoot himself at head

But he lost intest in life, as Byron said

Did Child-Harold so languid and morose,

Evgeniy came to salons, balls

And neither ladies' passion calls

Nor gossips, cardgames, poetry or prose

Was touching him enough

He didn't care `bout the stuff.

Nedug, kotorogo prichinu

Davno by otyskat' pora,

Podobnyj anglijskomu splinu,

Koroche: russkaya handra

Im ovladela ponemnogu;

On zastrelit'sya, slava Bogu,

Poprobovat' ne zahotel,

No k zhizni vovse ohladel.

Kak Child-Harold, ugryumyj, tomnyj,

V gostinnyh poyavlyalsya on;

Ni spletnti sveta, ni boston,

Ni milyj vzglyad, ni vzdoh neskromnyj,

Nichto ne trogalo ego,

Ne zamechal on nichego.

XXXIX.XL. XLII.

*******

****......

**************....

XLII

Oh those chic ladies of the world!

He could not take you any more

And hid from noones chained in gold

Sophisticated chitchat's such a bore!

Though there could be some dame

Interpreting Say and Bent*m,

But as a rule what they discuss

Is aggrivating, but innocent nonsence, alas!

Besides, they are so chaste and pure,

Majestic, full of intellect,

So pious, so politically correct,

So thoughtful that no man can lure

Them. When I look at them I grim -

Seeing those causes severe spleen.

Prichudnicy bol'shogo sveta!

Vseh prezhde vas ostavil on;

I pravda to, chto v nashi leta

Dovol'no skuchen vysshij ton;

Hot', mozhet byt', inaya dama

Tolkuet Seya i Bentama,

No voobshche iz razgovor nesnosnyj,

Hot' nevinnyj vzdor;

K tomu zh oni tak neporochny,

Tak velichavy, tak umny,

Tak blagochestiya polny,

Tak osmotritel'ny, tak tochny,

Tak nepristupny dlya muzhchin,

CHto vid ih uzh rozhdaet splin.

XLIII

And you, so beatiful young women

Who disappear late in night

On Petersburg's streets gleaming

In a midnight carriage ride -

Evgeniy left you just as well.

And lonely decieded he to dwell

Without pleasures in a hermit den.

Once, yawning, he took up a pen,

Up to tryouts did some writing,

But working hard has made him sick -

The born was shallow, very weak,

And thus he didn't join the mighty

And roaring guild of those whom I shall judge no way

For I belong to it, and there I should stay.

I vy, krasotki molodye,

Kotoryh pozdneyu poroj

Knosyat drozhki udalye

Po peterburgskoj mostovoj,

I vas pokinul moj Evgenij..

Otstupnik burnyh naslazhenij,

Onegin doma zapersya,

Zevaya, za pero vzyalsya,

Hotel pisat' - no trud upornyj

Emu byl toshen; nechego

Ne vyshlo iz pera ego,

I ne popal on v ceh zadornyj

Lyudej, o koih ne suzhu,

Zatem, chto k nim prinadlezhu.

XLIV

Again, devouted to the bore,

Was restless with emptiness of soul,

He started with a loudable goal

Assuming other's wisdom as his own.

A bunch of books he seated on the shelf,

And read them avidly outloud, to himself,

And thought - this one is dull, the other is deceiving,

That one is dellusion with no meaning.

It seemed the authors were feeding

The old ideas as out-dated,

And new ones as very much belated.

As well as women, he gave up on reading,

And covered then the shelf with cloth,

Thus hid the books to feed the moth.

I snova, predannyj bezdel'yu,

Tomyas' dushevnoj pustotoj,

Uselsya on s pohval'noj cel'yu

Sebe prisvoit' um chuzhoj.

Otryadom knig ustavil polku,

CHital, chital, no vse bez tolku:

Tam skuka, tam obman, tam bred;

V tom sovesti, v tom smysla net;

Na vseh razlichnye verigi;

I ustarela starina

I starym bredit novizna.

Kak zhenshchin, on ostavil knigi,

I knigi s pyl'noj ih sem'ej,

Zadernul traurnoj taftoj.

XLV

Have rioted against the social demands,

And like Onegin tired with the crowd,

I met Evgeniy, we made friends,

I liked him much without a doubt.

I liked his undeliberate allegiance to his dreams,

And that original eccentrity of his,

His cold and acid-sharpened mind.

My heart was angry, his also had no trace of light.

The game of vanities we both knew well,

And life itself was wearing us out,

No song was sang in our hearts outloud,

We both expected later on to smell

The spite of Fortune, for she's blind,

And the spite of the mankind.

Uslovij sveta skinuv bremya,

Kak on, ustav ot suety,

S nim podruzhilis' my v to vremya,

Mne nravilis' ego cherty,

Mechtam nevol'naya predannost',

Nepodrazhaemaya strannost'

I rezkij, ohlazhdennyj um.

YA byl ozloblen, on ugryum;

Starstej igru my znali oba:

Tomila zhizn' oboih nas;

V oboih serdcah zhar ugas;

Oboih ozhidala zloba

Slepoj Fortuny i lyudej,

Na samom utre nashih dnej.

XLVI

Who lived and thought, he cannot help

Despising men at heart in chest,

The one who pain and love had felt

Is haunted by the ghost of past.

He has no more of great illusions,

The memory brings him confusions,

And the remorse him tantalizes

These features add to dialog with him some spices.

At first, Onegin's manner to behave

Embarressed me, but later I got used

To caustic his remarks; I got amused

With how he joked with bile, and how he gave

Birth to many mordant epigrams

That caused some laughter and some damns.

Kto zhl i myslil, tot ne mozhet

V dushe ne prezirat' lyudej;

Kto chuvstvoval, togo trevozhit

Prizrak nevozvratimyh dnej:

Tomu uzh net ocharovanij,

Togo zmiya vospominanij,

Togo raskayan'e gryzet.

Vse eto chasto pridaet

Bol'shuyu prelest' razgovoru.

Sperva Onegina yazyk

Menya smushchal, noya privyk

K ego yazvitel'nomu sporu,

I k shutkes zhelch'yu popolam

I zlosti mrachnyh epigramm.

XLVII

How often in the summertime

The Niva night skies are so transperent and cyan,

The broken water glass does not reflect that fine

The Moon - the sole domain of Diane.

And we slipped into th'days that now are gone,

Recalling gone affairs with a mourn,

Recalling love, that struck the heart with joy and grief

And we became again more sencible and youthfully naive,

We saturated in the silence, being deaf and mute,

The viscous breath of night,

As if a prisoner who flies into the wood

When he's about to take to Morpheus a ride.

And so did we. We fled to the beginning of the youth

Led by the dream by which we were seduced.

Kak chasto letneyu poroyu,

Kogda prozrachno i svetlo

Nochnoe nebo nad Nevoyu

I vod veseloe steklo

Ne otrazhaet lik Diany,

Vospomnya prezhnie romany,

Vospomnya prezhnuyu lyubov',

CHuvstvitel'ny, bespechny vnov',

Dyhan'em nochi blagoklonnoj

Bezmolvno upivalis' my!

Kak v les zelenyj iz tyur'my

Perenesen kolodnik sonnyj,

Tak unosilis' my mechtoj

K nachalu zhizni molodoj.

XLVIII

And with his heart full of regrets,

Onegin leaned onto the bank's granite

`Through meditation guts he gets'-

As a poet once had rhymed.

It was so quiet. It was only heard

As the night guards were on the full alert,

And coaches' soft and distant rumble

From Millionannaya occasionaly mumbled.

And down the sleepy river a boat slid,

Flapping with her wooden oars,

She charmed us with a distant chorus

Of a clarion and song that meet...

But I prefer above those catchy rythms

The song and euphony of Torquato's hymns.

S dushoj, polnoj sozhalenij,

I opershisya na granit,
Stoyal zadumchivo Evgenij,

Kak opisal sebya piit.

Vse bylo tiho, lish' nochnye

Pereklikalis' chasovye;

Da drozhek otdalennyj stuk

S Mil'onnoj razdavalsya vdrug;

Lish' lodka, veslami mahaya,

Plyla po dremlyushchej reke:

I nas plenyali vdaleke

Rozhok i pesnya udalaya...

No slashche, sred' nochnyh zabav,

Napev Torkvatovyh oktav.

XLIX

The Adriatic sea, the Brenta,

Again I see you torquaise blaze.

My soul gets filled with inspiration

When their voice reaches my face.

The voice's sacred for Appolo's descendants,

I am familiar with it due to Byron's lyre crescendos,

I know it well as if we are related.

When daytime light in Italy has faded,

I will enjoy Italian nights' bliss

And a Venician beatiful young miss,

Who's talkative, then calm and taciturn

When we sail in a gondola. My lips then start to burn

With the language of Petrarca, tonge of love,

Noone knows it but the lovers and the dove.

Adriaticheskie volny,

O Brenta! net, uvizhu vas

I, vdohnovenij polnyj,

Uslyshu vash volshebnyj glas!

On svyat dlya vnukov Apollona;

Po gordoj lire Al'biona

On mne znakom, on mne rodnoj.

No chej Itali zlatoj

YA negoj naslazhus' na vole,

S veneciankoyu mladoj,

To govorlivoj, to nemoj,

Plyvya v tainstvennoj gondole;

S nej obretut usta moi

YAzyk Petrarki i lyubvi.

L

Will there be the day when I am free?

It is the time! - I call for it, I cry,

I wait for wind, I walk along the sea,

Allure the sails of vessels passing by.

When will I start my run, that's free and wild,

Arguing with billows during my glide

On the face of the restless sea? -

Away from the boring shore I need to flee

(And my dislike of it's on rise)

And be amidst African hot sands

In my forbears' native lands,

And there recall the murky Russian skies

Under which I suffered and I loved

And where I bured my broken heart.

Pridet li chas moej svobody?

Pora, pora! - vzyvayu k nej.

Brozhu nad morem, zhdu pogody,

Manyu vetrila korablej.

Pod rizoj bur', s volnami sporya,

Po vol'nomu rasput'yu morya

Kogda zh nachnu ya vol'nyj beg?

Pora pokinut' skuchnyj breg

Mne nepryaznennoj stihii,

I sred' poludennyh zybej,

Pod nebom Afriki moej,

Vzdyhat' o sumrachnoj Rssii,

Gde ya stradal, gde ya lyubil,

Gde serdce ya pohoronil.

LI

Onegin said that he was ready

With me to travel other lands,

But we by chance got separated

For long time though we had been friends.

His father died and left a desert:

In front of Evgeniy got gathered

A hungry regiment of lenders,

Who were there own's defenders.

Onegin, in disguise of suits and courts,

Gave them the legacy, preferring peace to swords,

Still kept on being happy with the state of things

Not seeing a big loss in it as winds

Had gossiped (and he overheard)

That his beloved uncle soon would see the Lord.

Onegin byl gotov so mnoyu

Uvidet' chuzhdye strany;

No skoro byli my sud'boyu
Na dolgij srok razvedeny.

Otec ego togda skonchalsya.

Pered Oneginym sobralsya

Zaimodavcev zhadnyj polk.

U kazhdogo svoj um i tolk:

Evgenij, tyazhby nenavidya,

Dovol'nyj zhrebiem svoim,

Nasledstvo predostavil im,

Bol'shoj poteri v tom ne vidya

Il' predugadav izdaleka

Konchinu dyadi-starika.

LII

Indeed, he got one day

From the manager a note:

The uncle soon will pass away,

His nephew's farewell then he sought.

At once, as soon as finished reading,

Evgeniy parted for the meeting,

He rushed headlong with the post-chaise,

And yawned, forseeing boring days,

And for the money got prepared

To sigh, deceive and worry

(With these I have begun the story)

But when arrived - no loger cared:

The uncle was already dead

And on the table he was laid.

Vdrug poluchil on v samom dele

Ot upravitelya doklad:

CHto dyadya pri smerti v postele

I s nim prostit'sya byl by rad.

Prochtya pechal'noe poslan'e,

Evgenij totchas na svidan'e

Stremglav po pochte poskakal

I uzh zaranee zeval,

Prigotovlyayas', deneg radi,

Na vzdohi, skuku i obman

( I tem ya nachal svoj roman).

No, priletev v derevnyu dyadi,

Ego nashel uzh na stole,

Kak dan' gotovuyu zemle.

LIII

He found the courtyard full of people

From all the places nearby,

Both friends and rivals were coming

To mourn a little and to dine,

Then left for home with dignity and grace

As have fullfilled their duty with all As.

Onegin now in countyside resides.

And woods, and rivers, factories and land

Belong to him, though he had been forehand

With any order in non-ending fights.

He welcomes changes in the way he lived:

At least there is a slightest drift.

Nashel on polon dvor uslugi;

K pokojniku so vseh storon

S®ezzhalis' nedrugi i drugi,

Ohotniki do pohoron.

Pokojnika pohoronili.

Popy i gosti eli, pili

I posle vazhno razoshlis',

Kak budto delom zanyalis'.

Vot nash Onegin sel'skij zhitel',

Zavodov , vod, lesov, zemel'

Hozyain polnyj, a dosel'

Poryadka vrag i rastochitel',

I ochen' rad, chto prezhnij put'

Peremenil na chto-nibud'.

LIV

For 2 seqvensive days secluded fields

Seemed new and fresh to him

As well as shady oak trees,

And murmur of a quiet spring.

But on the third, the field, the grove, the hill

Caused his heart not a thing to feel.

They made him sleepy later on,

He realized that he was wrong;

The countryside is boring just as well.

Though there - no palaces, no streets,

No balls, no poems with their wits.

The bore is guarding by his cell,

Or follows him as shadow does

Or a wive that too much loves.

Dva dnya emu kazalis' novy

Uedinennye polya,

Prohlada sumrachnoj dubrovy,

ZHurchan'e tihogo ruch'ya;

Na tretij roshcha, holm i pole

Ego ne zanimali bole;

Potom uzh navodili son;

Potom uvidel yasno on,

CHto i v derevne skuka ta zhe

Hot' net ni ulic, ni dvorcov,

Ni kart, ni balov, ni stihov.

Handra zhdala ego na strazhe,

I begala za nim ona,

Kak ten' il' vernaya zhena.

LV

Well, I was born for peaceful life,

For soft bucolic soundlessness,

Where my voice sounds stronger

And dreams are full of vividness.

And being fully into leisure,

I wander by the lake for pleasure,

And far niente as a law I'm taking.

And every morning I'm awaken

For feeling great, and free, and strong.

I read a little, sleep a lot,

I seek no fame I could have got.

And have I spent the years gone

In doing nothing, in the shade,

The days of mine, that were great?

YA byl rozhden dlya zhizni mirnoj,

Dlya derevenskoj tishiny:

V glushi zvuchnee golos lirnyj,

ZHivee tvorcheskie sny.

Dosugam posvetyas' nevinnym,

Brozhu nad ozerom pustynnym,

I far niente moj zakon.

YA kazhdym utrom probuzhden

Dlya sladkoj negi i svobody:

CHitayu malo, mnogo splyu,

Letuchej slavy ne lovlyu.

Ne tak li ya v bylye gody

Provel v bezdejstvii, v teni

Moi schastlivejshie dni..

LVI

Oh flowers, love, oh fields and leisure-

My heart is yours or even more so.

I'd like to note: the gap quite wide to measure

Exists between Ongin and the author.

For if it happens that a mocking avid reader,

Or a publisher of witty-crafted litter,

Compares then my features to Onegin's,

And will conclude and spread the word

That it's my portrait what I wrote

Like Byron did, as if we cannot ever since

Write poems 'bout all other things

Except for our precious ego

With which we have vertigo.

Cvety, lyubov', derevnya, prazdnost',

Polya! ya predan vam dushoj.

Vsegda ya rad zametit' raznost'

Mezhdu Oneginym i mnoj.

CHtoby nasmeshlivyj chitatel'

Ili kakoj-nibud' izdatel'

Zamyslovatoj klevety,

Slichaya zdes' moi cherty,

Ne povtoryal potom bezbozhno,

CHto namaral ya svoj portret,

K ak Bajron, gordosti poet,

Kak budto nam uzh nevozmozhno

Pisat' poemy o drugom,

Kak tol'ko o sebe samom.

LVII

All poets, by the way I note,

Are friends with love, that never is disturbed.

I dreamt `bout nice things quite a lot,

And their secret images my soul has preserved.

The muse refreshed the images in me,

And I (so careless) sang praise and plea

Both to the girl of mounts, who doesn't ever fear,

And to the beuties prisoned on the banks of the Salgir.

And nowadays I hear from you, friends,

A question asked quite often:

Who caused your lyre to sigh and heart to soften?

Who is the one you want to kiss in dance?

Who is the one among that jellous crowd,

Who has inspired you to play your lyre so loud?

Zamechu kstati: vse poety -

Lyubvi mechtitel'noj druz'ya.

Byvalo, milye predmety

Mne snilis', i dusha moya

Ih obraz tajnyj sohranila;

Ih posle muza ozhivila%

Tak ya, bespechen, vospeval,

I devu gor, moj ideal,

I plennic beregov Salgira.

Teper' ot vas, moi druz'ya,

Vopros neredko slyshu ya:

O kom tvoya vzdyhaet lira?

Komu, v tolpe revnivyh dev,

Ty posvyatil ee napev?

LVIII

Whose sights have caused your inspiration?

Who has awarded you with touch

For how you sang so thoughtfully with passion,

To whom your poetry's been worshiping so much?

She is noone, there isn't any one.

Love's madness, and distortion and the fun

I have experianced in vain.

Be blessed the one who managed to contain

Both loving and the fever of the rhyme:

He doubles the poetry's sacred dellusion

And is a Petrarka's follower with no confusion,

Thus he reduces pain in heart. This very time

He begets the fame. But I am not that kind of dude-

When I'm in love - I'm dumb and mute.

CHej vzor, volnuya vdohnoven'e,

Umil'noj laskoj nagradil

Tvoe zadumchivoe pen'e?

Kogo tvoj stih bogotvoril?

I, drugi, nikogo, ej-bogu!

Lyubvi bkzumnuyu trevogu

YA bezotradno ispytal.

Blazhen, kto s neyu sochetal

Goryachku rifm: ot tem udvoil

Poezii svyashchennyj bred,

Petrarke shestvuya vosled,

A muki serdca uspokoil,

Pojmal i slavu mezhdu tem;

No ya, lyubya, byl glu i nem.

LIX

When love was gone, the muse stood up in front,

The murky mind became more clear,

I'm free again and searching for concord

Of senses, thoughts, and sounds of magic that are dear.

The heart's not sad when I write,

The pen, half-consious, by the side

Of poems draws no more seducing eyes,

Or women legs, or their profiles.

Extingushed ashes will light up no more,

I am still sad, though tears aren't seen,

And very soon the storm will dim

Inside my soul - it shall not sore.

And there in writing I will strive

To craft some verses - maybe twenty five.

Proshla lyubov', yavilas' muza,

Proyasnilsya temnyj um.

Svoboden, vnov' ishchu soyuza

Volshebnyh zvukov, chuvstv i dum|;

Pishu, i serdce ne toskuet,

Pero, zabyvshis', ne risuet,

Bliz neokonchennyh stihov

Ni zhenskih nozhek, ni golov;

Pogasshij pepel uzh ne vspyhnet,

YA vse grushchu; no slez uzh net,

I skoro, skoro buri sled

V dushe moej sovsem utihnet:

Togda-to ya nachnu pisat'

Poemu pesen v dvadcat' pyat'.

LX

I've thought about the story's plot

And what will name the hero,

And now you see what I have wrote:

The chapter number one is here.

I looked it through, I was severe:

The contradiction are, but, well, I fear

I won't correct them - they amuse,

Thus paying sensors their dues.

And will give up my own creation

To journalists for humilation.

Now go, go to the Niva banks

And earn me fame, and earn me thanks,

And the rest of the hommage of glory:

Noise, gossips and eternal worry.

YA dumal uzh o forme plana,

I kak geroya nazovu;

Pokamest moeg romana

YA konchil pervuyu glavu;

Peresmotrel vse eto strogo:

Protivorechij ochen' mnogo,

No ih ispravit' ne hochu.

Cenzure dolg svoj zaplachu,

I zhurnalistam na s®eden'e

Plody trudov svoih otdam:

Idi zhe k nevskim beregam,

Novorozhdennoe tvoren'e,

I zasluzhi mne slavy dan':

Krivye tolki, shum i bran'!

I

The country where Eugeniy lived in bore

Was place of lavish, tranquil nature

Its sky would bless the one who has a secret lore

Of simple joy of its majestic stature.

The master's mansion lonely, by river stood,

Where not a wind it reach there could

In front of it as far as one's eye sees,

Spread meadows, framed with trees,

And fields of many shades of gold,

And villages; and here and there

The cattle rambled everywhere,

And orchard, though unkempt and old

Grew by the mansion. Taciturn dryads

Found in the orchard shelter for their heads.

I

Derevnya, gde skuchal Evgenij,

Byla prelestnyj ugolok;

Tam drug nevinnyh naslazhdenij

Blagoslovit' by nebo mog.

Gospodskij dom uedinennyj,

Goroj ot vetrov ograzhdennyj,

Stoyal nad rechkoyu. Vdali

Pred nim pestreli i cveli

Luga i nivy zolotye,

Mel'kali sŁla; zdes' i tam

Stada brodili po lugam,

I seni rasshiryal gustye

Ogromnyj, zapushchŁnnyj sad,

Priyut zadumchivyh driad.

II

The estate's mansion had been built

The way such buildings are to be erected:

Was mighty firm, with calmness filled,

And by the good ol' fashion was effected.

In every room high ceilings were,

Wall papers from Damascus were there,

And Royal portraits hang on walls,

And motley tiles were decorating stoves.

But everything has fallen now into decay,

I don't know why that happened so.

My friend didn't care `bout the house though

I should take notice by the way

For old-style fashioned rooms bored him

As bad as modern ones he'd seen.

II

Pochtennyj zamok byl postroen,

Kak zamki stroit'sya dolzhny:

Otmenno prochen i spokoen

Vo vkuse umnoj stariny.

Veede vysokie pokoi,

V gostinoj shtofnye oboi,

Carej portrety na stenah,

I pechi v pestryh izrazcah.

VsŁ eto nyne obvetshalo,

Ne znayu pravo pochemu;

Da, vprochem, drugu moemu

V tom nuzhdy bylo ochen' malo,

Zatem chto on ravno zeval

Sred' modnyh i starinnyh zal.

III
He took the room in which for 4 decades

The country-side old-timer wrangled

With housekeeper, mistress to all keys and spades,

Looked at the window, flies he strangled.

The furnishing was simple: on the oak floor

Stood a bookcase, cupboard, sofa and bureau

On them had not been smallest ink-spot left.

Onegin opened bookcase not bereft:

He found expenses-book recorded up-to-date,

And in the cupboard - fruit moonshine,

And row of jugs of apple wine,

Expired calendar for year 18 and 08

As was too busy the old man now gone

To be to other kinds of reading prone.

III

On v tom pokoe poselilsya,

Gde derevenskij starozhil

Let sorok s klyuchnicej branilsya,

V okno smotrel i muh davil.

Vse bylo prosto: pol dubovyj,

Dva shkafa, stol, divan puhovyj,

Nigde ni pyatnyshka chernil.

Onegin shkafy otvoril:

V odnom nashel tetrad' rashoda,

V drugom nalivok celyj stroj,

Kuvshiny s yablochnoj vodoj

I kalendar' os'mogo goda;

Starik, imeya mnogo del,

V inye knigi ne glyadel.

IV

Amidst his vast domains alone,

To pass his spear time,

Eugeniy sought establishing new law,

New order of some kind.

A sage of place at back of the beyond,

He substituted the corvee's old bond

With quit-rent easy to be paid;

The serf then started thanking fate.

But in his home at once got pauted

Perceiving awful harm in what Onegin did

A thrifty neighbor. Another one just hid

An archly smile observing what Eugeniy started.

But out loud decision t'which they all agreed:

Onegin's an eccentric, dang'rous kid.

IV

Odin sredi svoih vladenij,

CHtob tol'ko vremya provodit',

Sperva zadumal nash Evgenij

Poryadok novyj uchredit'.

V svoej glushi mudrec pustynnyj,

YArem on barshchiny starinnoj

Obrokom legkim zamenil;

I rab sud'bu blagoslovil.

Zato v uglu svoem nadulsya,

Uvidya v etom strashnyj vred,

Ego raschetlivyj sosed.

Drugoj lukavo ulybnulsya,

I v golos vse reshili tak,

CHto on opasnejshij chudak.

V

At first all neighbours came to visit.

But once hoofs clattered down the road

Onegin had Don stallion exquisite

Sent up to back porch and was gone.

The neighbours soon got hurt, insulted

Amicability was halted

And word-to-mouth passed a notion

(and many shared this emotion):

Onegin's full of extravagance,

He's ignoramus, un mason,

With red wine has strong liason,

And never kisses ladies' hands

And never uses `nay' or `yes'

As only `nope' and `yeah' he says.

V

Snachala vse k nemu ezzhali;

No tak kak s zadnego kryl'ca

Obyknovenno podavali

Emu donskogo zherebca,

Lish' tol'ko vdol' bol'shoj dorogi

Zaslyshit ih domashni drogi,-

Postupkom oskorbyas' takim,

Vse druzhbu prekratili s nim.

"Sosed nash neuch, sumasbrodit,

On farmazon; on p'et odno

Stakanom krasnoe vino;

On damam k ruchke ne podhodit;

Vse da da net; ne skazhet da-s

Il' net-s". Takov byl obshchij glas.

VI

That very time to near-by estate

Arrived its new land-lord.

The neighbours rated him the same

And put him on the spot.

Vladimir Lensky was the name of man,

His soul coined in that German Gettingen,

Was handsome in the age of bloom

Kant's devotee, a poet of the gloom,

He brought from Germany a lot

Fruits of enlighted education:

Dreams vague about liberalization,

L'esprit of passion, l'esprit odd,

And burlesque manner of the speech

And curly darkish hair that his shoulders reach

VI

V svoyu derevnyu v tu zhe poru

Pomeshchik novyj priskakal

I stol' zhe strogomu razboru

V sosedstve povod podaval.

Po imeni Vladimir Lenskij,

S dushoyu pryamo gettingenskoj,

Krasavec, v polnom cvete let,

Poklonnik Kanta i poet.

On iz Germanii tumannoj

Privez uchenosti plody:

Vol'nolyubivye mechty,

Duh pylkij i dovol'no strannyj,

Vsegda vostorzhennuyu rech'

I kudri chernye do plech.

VII

He hasn't been yet burned and faded

With world's hypocrisy and lies

As soul was warmed and well protected

By friends and young shy ladies' smiles;

At heart he cutely knew a thing,

As rose of hope there grew within,

Yet captured was his avid mind

By shine of world, its glitter side.

With most enlighted visions, sweetest dreams

He pacified all doubts of his soul;

He searched for porpose of the life, its goal,

And tried to hack enigma of the realms.

In doing that he racked his brains,

Suspecting miracles and saints.

VII

Ot hladnogo razvrata sveta

Eshche uvyanut' ne uspev,

Ego dusha byla sogreta

Privetom druga, laskoj dev.

On serdcem milyj byl nevezhda,

Ego leleyala nadezhda,

I mira novyj blesk i shum

Eshche plenyali yunyj um.

On zabavlyal mechtoyu sladkoj

Somnen'ya serdca svoego;

Cel' zhizni nashej dlya nego

Byla zamanchivoj zagadkoj,

Nad nej on golovu lomal

I chudesa podozreval.

VIII

With all his heart Vladimir then believed

There's a mate soul with which he is to join.

Until that day the soul had to live

Without joy and crawing for the moment.

His friends, he thought, would go to prison

If thus defend his honor they had reason

And they would fight against insulting rumour

That him defames the way does cancer tumor.

He knew there were chosen guides,

Some chosen friends of the mankind.

One day, immortal, they, with brightest light

That passes far to all the sides,

Would gift the world salvation with its ray.

He knew - there had to be such day.

VIII

On veril, chto dusha rodnaya

Soedinit'sya s nim dolzhna,

CHto, bezotradno iznyvaya,

Ego vsednevno zhdet ona;

On veril, chto druz'ya gotovy

Za chest' ego priyat' okovy,

I chto ne drognet ih ruka

Razbit' sosud klevetnika;

CHto est' izbrannye sud'bami,

Lyudej svyashchennye druz'ya;

CHto ih bessmertnaya sem'ya

Neotrazimymi luchami,

Kogda-nibud', nas ozarit

I mir blazhenstvom odarit.

IX

From early days his blood was steaming

With fury, passion and regret,

He loved the good to which was leaning

As was to glory, sweet and sad.

He traveled world, rolled like a dice,

Beneath the Schiller-Goethe skies,

And with their poetic fire

His soul flamed as did his lyre.

He was no shame, -of lucky him! -

To airy muses of creative

In songs of his was pride of native

Pure snow-white virgin dream,

And songs to village versus city

And that cute simpli-city.

IX

Negodovan'e, sozhalen'e,

Ko blagu chistaya lyubov'

I slavy sladkoe muchen'e

V nem rano volnovali krov'.

On s liroj stranstvoval na svete;

Pod nebom SHillera i Gete

Ih poeticheskim ognem

Dusha vosplamenilas' v nem.

I muz vozvyshennyh iskusstva,

Schastlivec, on ne postydil;

On v pesnyah gordo sohranil

Vsegda vozvyshennye chuvstva,

Poryvy devstvennoj mechty

I prelest' vazhnoj prostoty.

X

Its humble slave, he sang to love

His song - celestially clear

Like thoughts of virgin `bout a dove

Like dreams of infant, sweet and dear,

Like sailing goddess of the gloom,

Of mysteries and sighs - the Moon.

He sang of missed ones, storm del mar,

Of something, of the murky far

And of the roses of romance;

He sang of lands of far away,

Where had in silence cried by day,

Where tears fallen; hence,

Of faded colours of the world,

Not being 18 years old.

X

On pel lyubov', lyubvi poslushnyj,

I pesn' ego byla yasna,

Kak mysli devy prostodushnoj,

Kak son mladenca, kak luna

V pustynyah neba bezmyatezhnyh,

Boginya tajn i vzdohov nezhnyh.

On pel razluku i pechal',

I nechto, i tumannu dal',

I romanticheskie rozy;

On pel te dal'ne strany,

Gde dolgo v lono tishiny

Lilis' ego zhivye slezy;

On pel pobleklyj zhizni cvet

Bez malogo v os'mnadcat' let.

XI

In desert where Onegin only

Could value Lensky's gifts,

The latter couldn't stand the phony

Their neighbours' feasts and eats.

As in discussion covered topics

Were not the jewels of rhetorics,

But decent chat of harvest, kin,

Wine, dogs and dreams had seen.

Although it didn't provide the flame,

The passion of poetic strength,

It wasn't sharp or smart or tense,

But mostly mundane and the same

What their good wives chit-chatted `bout

Was much more worse and much more loud.

XI

V pustyne, gde odin Evgenij

Mog ocenit' ego dary,

Gospod sosedstvennyh selenij

Emu ne nravilis' piry;

Bezhal on ih besedy shumnoj.

Ih razgovor blagorazumnyj

O senokose, o vine,

O psarne, o svoej rodne,

Konechno, ne blistal ni chuvstvom,

Ni poeticheskim ognem,

Ni ostrotoyu, ni umom,

Ni obshchezhitiya iskusstvom;

No razgovor ih milyh zhen

Gorazdo men'she byl umen.

XII

As rich and handsome, Lensky was received

In every house as perspective groom;

Such was tradition in the countryside perceived

And every neighbour's daughter in the bloom

Intended was for fellow semi-Russian;

If he comes over then at once discussion

By little, like the slightest tingle,

Turns to drawbacks of being single;

And then he's called to samovar

And Dunya serves the drink,

They wisper `Girl, observe!' and wink

Then bring to her guitar,

And good my Lord! she starts to squeek:

To golden palace come for me to seek!

XII

Bogat, horosh soboyu, Lenskij

Vezde byl prinyat kak zhenih;

Takov obychaj derevenskij;

Vse dochek prochili svoih

Za polurusskogo soseda;

Vzojdet li on, totchas beseda

Zavodit slovo storonoj

O skuke zhizni holostoj;

Zovut soseda k samovaru,

A Dunya razlivaet chaj,

Ej shepchut: "Dunya, primechaj! "

Potom prinosyat i gitaru:

I zapishchit ona (bog moj!):

Pridi v chertog ko mne zlatoj!

XIII

But Lensky didn't want, of course,

To ties of marriage to be bound,

But sought becoming bit more close

With E.Onegin, which was found.

Made friends. But stone and waves,

The coldest ice and hottest flames

Have more in common, differ less;

At first, it bored them to death

Then came to liking one another,

And every day they side by side

Joined for a horseback-ride

Until became unseparatable rather.

So people (I'm first t'confess to you)

Make friends because of nothing else to do.

XIII

No Lenskij, ne imev konechno

Ohoty uzy braka nest',

S Oneginym zhelal serdechno

Znakomstvo pokoroche svest'.

Oni soshlis'. Volna i kamen',

Stihi i proza, led i plamen'

Ne stol' razlichny mezh soboj.

Sperva vzaimnoj raznotoj

Oni drug drugu byli skuchny;

Potom ponravilis'; potom

S®ezzhalis' kazhdyj den' verhom,

I skoro stali nerazluchny.

Tak lyudi (pervyj kayus' ya)

Ot delat' nechego druz'ya.

XIV

Friendship like this exists no more.

As with the prejudice we're done,

We view the rest as round zero

Regarding ourselves as `one'.

We aim at Napoleon to be;

Bipedal creatures millions we see

As simple tools fulfilling our plans.

We view as alien and funny feelings, sense.

Evgeniy was bearable compared to the rest;

Though he knew well the human kind

And as a rule held it in contempt and out of sight

But (as exemption t'every rule or test)

He did distinguish rare, rare men,

And even he respected some of them.

XIV

No druzhby net i toj mezh nami.

Vse predrassudki istrebya,

My pochitaem vseh nulyami,

A edinicami - sebya.

My vse glyadim v Napoleony;

Dvunogih tvarej milliony

Dlya nas orudie odno;

Nam chuvstvo diko i smeshno.

Snosnee mnogih byl Evgenij;

Hot' on lyudej konechno znal

I voobshche ih preziral , -

No (pravil net bez isklyuchenij)

Inyh on ochen' otlichal

I vchuzhe chuvstvo uvazhal.

XV

He listened t'Lensky with a smile,

To poet's fervent, ardent speech,

Observed his mind in search for why,

Inspired sight and cheeks of peach.

Onegin found these were new for him;

While he did try to cool his steam

With words reserved prepared in advance

But thought: I'd be so stupid taking chance

To meddle in his temporary bliss; Oh, Lord!

Without me that time will come;

Let him be odd, be dreamy and be rum,

Believing in the perfect world;

Let us forgive youth's fever and illusion

As well as youth' excitement and delusion.

XV

On slushal Lenskogo s ulybkoj.

Poeta pylkij razgovor,

I um, eshche v suzhden'yah zybkoj,

I vechno vdohnovennyj vzor, -

Oneginu vsŁ bylo novo;

On ohladitel'noe slovo

V ustah staralsya uderzhat'

I dumal: glupo mne meshat'

Ego minutnomu blazhenstvu;

I bez menya pora pridet;

Puskaj pokamest on zhivet

Da verit mira sovershenstvu;

Prostim goryachke yunyh let

I yunyj zhar i yunyj bred.

XVI

Just everything could lead to verbal fights,

To meditation, revelation and upheaval:

Some treaties of some vanished tribes,

The fruits of science, the good and evil,

And superstitions ages old,

Enigmae of sepulchre deathly cold,

The fate and life in their turn

Their car'ful judgement undergone.

The poet in the ardour of discourse

En reverie read out-loud verses -

Of northern poets cited clauses.

Onegin, he, despite was used to prose,

Did heed him diligently though did not

Get words and issues he then heard

XVI.

Mezh imi vsŁ rozhdalo spory

I k razmyshleniyu vleklo:

Plemen minuvshih dogovory,

Plody nauk, dobro i zlo,

I predrassudki vekovye,

I groba tajny rokovye,

Sud'ba i zhizn' v svoyu chredu,

Vse podvergalos' ih sudu.

Poet v zharu svoih suzhdenij

CHital, zabyvshis', mezhdu tem

Otryvki severnyh poem,

I snishoditel'nyj Evgenij,

Hot' ih ne mnogo ponimal,

Prilezhno yunoshe vnimal.

XVII

And often passions, hot and cool,

Preoccupied my hermits' minds.

Once freed of their restless rule,

Onegin spoke of them sometimes

With sigh of pity and regret.

Is blessed the one who passions had

But left them after all; a lot

More blessed the one who had them not,

Who cooled his love with distant journey,

His rivals cooled with irony and puns,

Who was not jealous even once

While with his friends and wife was yawning

Who did not trust the legacy he got

To cunning cards and fickle lot.

XVII.

No chashche zanimali strasti

Umy pustynnikov moih.

Ushed ot ih myatezhnoj vlasti,

Onegin govoril ob nih

S nevol'nym vzdohom sozhalen'ya.

Blazhen, kto vedal ih volnen'ya

I nakonec ot nih otstal;

Blazhennej tot, kto ih ne znal,

Kto ohlazhdal lyubov' -- razlukoj,

Vrazhdu -- zlosloviem; poroj

Zeval s druz'yami i s zhenoj,

Revnivoj ne trevozhas' mukoj,

I dedov vernyj kapital

Kovarnoj dvojke ne vveryal.

XVIII

When all of us become allied

Around banner of judicious quiet

When flames of passion in the heart subside

We laugh at passion's willful riot,

Its gust and its belated comments

And passion's little acid torments. -

When we surrender having no concession,

Sometimes to others' tongue of passion

We love to listen, love to hear.-

It touches softly our heart.

Likewise forgotten in his hut

Old crippled man so gladly gives his ear

To stories brought him in rush

By some young men avec moustache

XVIII.

Kogda pribegnem my pod znamya

Blagorazumnoj tishiny,

Kogda strastej ugasnet plamya

I nam stanovyatsya smeshny

Ih svoevol'stvo il' poryvy

I zapozdalye otzyvy, --

Smirennye ne bez truda,

My lyubim slushat' inogda

Strastej chuzhih yazyk myatezhnyj,

I nam on serdce shevelit.

Tak tochno staryj invalid

Ohotno klonit sluh prilezhnyj

Rasskazam yunyh usachej,

Zabytyj v hizhine svoej.

XIX

Likewise cannot conceal a thing

That flashy and flamboyant youth.

They'll bring out their joy and grim

And love without a permission or excuse.

Considering himself a kind of love-impared,

Onegin listen'd thoughtfully as if he cared

To deepest secrets poet told -

He loved t'confess and have his heart unfold;

His candid conscience

He bared in a way naive.

Onegin easily archived

Access to poet story, wild like oceans,

About his love so turbulent and rich -

For us familiar for long. To it now let us switch.

XIX.

Zato i plamennaya mladost'

Ne mozhet nichego skryvat'.

Vrazhdu, lyubov', pechal' i radost'

Ona gotova razboltat'.

V lyubvi schitayas' invalidom,

Onegin slushal s vazhnym vidom,

Kak, serdca ispoved' lyubya,

Poet vyskazyval sebya;

Svoyu doverchivuyu sovest'

On prostodushno obnazhal.

Evgenij bez truda uznal

Ego lyubvi mladuyu povest',

Obil'nyj chuvstvami rasskaz,

Davno ne novymi dlya nas.

XX

Oh, how he loved! He loved in such a way

Nobody does in our time.

To such a love is sentenced by to-day

Few poets fervent soul for an unmentioned crime:

Always and everywhere - dreaming, fever, fire,

And that familiar desire

And that familiar sad look.

And neither distant trip he took,

Nor years and years of separation,

Nor hours dedicated to the muse,

Nor to the fun (he tried himself t'amuse),

Nor foreign lands, nor to the studies dedication

Could him disperse, could alter poet's soul

Warmed by pure virgin fire on the whole

XX.

Ah, on lyubil, kak v nashi leta

Uzhe ne lyubyat; kak odna

Bezumnaya dusha poeta

Eshche lyubit' osuzhdena:

Vsegda, vezde odno mechtan'e,

Odno privychnoe zhelan'e,

Odna privychnaya pechal'.

Ni ohlazhdayushchaya dal',

Ni dolgie leta razluki,

Ni muzam dannye chasy,

Ni chuzhezemnye krasy,

Ni shum veselij, ni nauki

Dushi ne izmenili v nem,

Sogretoj devstvennym ognem.

XXI.

When hardly into teens, by Olga captured,

Not knowing yet how heart may hurt,

He was a witness humble, yet enraptured,

Of games she played, of toys she got.

And in the shade of oak-wood

Together play the games they would.

And neighbours, parents, after all

Foretold them t'join under wedding toll.

Deep in the country under humble seal

Filled with innocence she grew,

And was in dear parents' view

A blooming secret lily, fair daffodil,

Concealed in high and wild field weed

Unknown to butterflies and bees it hid.

XXI.

CHut' otrok, Ol'goyu plenennyj,

Serdechnyh muk eshche ne znav,

On byl svidetel' umilennyj

Ee mladencheskih zabav;

V teni hranitel'noj dubravy

On razdelyal ee zabavy,

I detyam prochili vency

Druz'ya sosedy, ih otcy.

V glushi, pod seniyu smirennoj,

Nevinnoj prelesti polna,

V glazah roditelej, ona

Cvela kak landysh potaennyj,

Ne znaemyj v trave gluhoj

Ni motyl'kami, ni pcheloj.

XXII

She was the first to gift the poet

With dream of passionate delight,

The thought she caused was first t'be followed

By moan of the poet's pipe.

Farewell, oh games of days of gold!

He fell in love with groves that old,

With solitude, with silence, gloom,

And night, and stars, and Moon.

The Moon - the heaven's icon-lamp

To which we used to dedicate

Walks in the dusk and in the shade

And tears - consolation of the ramp...

But now we see in it a mere substitute

For lanterns wan: too big, but cute.

XXII.

Ona poetu podarila

Mladyh vostorgov pervyj son,

I mysl' ob nej odushevila

Ego cevnicy pervyj ston.

Prostite, igry zolotye!

On roshchi polyubil gustye,

Uedinen'e, tishinu,

I Noch', i Zvezdy, i Lunu,

Lunu, nebesnuyu lampadu,

Kotoroj posvyashchali my

Progulki sred' vechernej t'my,

I slezy, tajnyh muk otradu...

No nynche vidim tol'ko v nej

Zamenu tusklyh fonarej.

XXIII.

She's always modest, always is agreeing,

And cheerful like the morning sun,

Like poet's life is open, not a thing concealing,

Nice like a kiss of love that's just begun.

Her eyes are blue like springtime skies;

The smile, and flaxen locks, again - the eyes

And movements, voice, slender waist-

These all you'll find in Olga... But don't waste

Your time, just open any of heart-braking books,

There must be her por-trait, I bet,

Once real love for such I had,

But now am tired of these standard looks;

Now let me, dear miss or mister,

Proceed with you to Olga's elder sister.

XXIII.

Vsegda skromna, vsegda poslushna,

Vsegda kak utro vesela,

Kak zhizn' poeta prostodushna,

Kak poceluj lyubvi mila,

Glaza kak nebo golubye;

Ulybka, lokony l'nyanye,

Dvizhen'ya, golos, legkij stan,

VsŁ v Ol'ge... no lyuboj roman

Voz'mite i najdete verno

Ee portret: on ochen' mil,

YA prezhde sam ego lyubil,

No nadoel on mne bezmerno.

Pozvol'te mne, chitatel' moj,

Zanyat'sya starsheyu sestroj.

XXIV

The sister was baptized Tatyana...

We must be first a name like that

To put on tender pages of the piano

Novel, and there's nothing to be smiling at.

What's wrong with it? It's nice, it has the sound,

But, yes, I know this name's a sort of bound

To times long gone, to things now out of fashion,

To servant rooms! We all must make confession:

There isn't much of taste been left

In ourselves, in our names (and might

Be in the poetry we write):

For us enlightenment is time-theft,

All what we learn is questionable art

Of being finical and not too smart.

XXIV

Ee sestra zvalas' Tat'yana...

Vpervye imenem takim

Stranicy nezhnye romana

My svoevol'no osvyatim.

I chto zh? ono priyatno, zvuchno;

No s nim, ya znayu, nerazluchno

Vospominan'e stariny

Il' devich'ej! My vse dolzhny

Priznat'sya: vkusu ochen' malo

U nas i v nashih imenah

(Ne govorim uzh o stihah);

Nam prosveshchen'e ne pristalo

I nam dostalos' ot nego

ZHemanstvo, - bol'she nichego.

XXV

But, anyway, Tatyana was her name.

She had nom beauty of her sister,

Nor rosy freshness equally same,

T'attract of glances twister.

Wild, sad, and taciturn, not vivid,

Like forest dear timid,

She seemed a stranger in her home,

Among her family - alone.

She didn't know how to caress

Her father and her mother,

As kid she'd stand alone than with the other

Kids play in noise and in mess.

And often lonely all the day

By window silently she could there stay.

XXV

Itak, ona zvalas' Tat'yanoj.

Ni krasotoj sestry svoej,

Ni svezhest'yu ee rumyanoj

Ne privlekla b ona ochej.

Dika, pechal'na, molchaliva,

Kak lan' lesnaya boyazliva,

Ona v sem'e svoej rodnoj

Kazalas' devochkoj chuzhoj.

Ona laskat'sya ne umela

K otcu, ni k materi svoej;

Ditya sama, v tolpe detej

Igrat' i prygat' ne hotela

I chasto celyj den' odna

Sidela molcha u okna.

XXVI

And pensiveness, her dear friend

From cradle days she was a baby

Filled up her spare-time content

With dreams as if a fairy, maybe.

Her softest fingers never touched a needle,

On tambour plate appeared no silk riddle,

Nor pattern did as neither did design,

However vivid was or fine.

A sign of future wish to rule,

With servile dolls a kid prepares

Through games to make no stupid errors

Along the traps of which the world is full.

And to the doll retells a daughter (or a son)

The lesson's just been taught by Mom.

XXVI

Zadumchivost', ee podruga

Ot samyh kolybel'nyh dnej,

Techen'e sel'skogo dosuga

Mechtami ukrashala ej.

Ee iznezhennye pal'cy

Ne znali igl; sklonyas' na pyal'cy,

Uzorom shelkovym ona

Ne ozhivlyala polotna.

Ohoty vlastvovat' primeta,

S poslushnoj kukloyu ditya

Prigotovlyaetsya shutya

K prilichiyu, zakonu sveta,

I vazhno povtoryaet ej

Uroki mamen'ki svoej.

XXVII

But even as a kid Tatyana never

Played with a doll or happened to discuss

With her new fashions what-so-ever

Or city news, its gossips or its fuss.

She didn't like t'engage in follies

Or other games with other kids; but horror stories

Were what did capture young girl's mind

In winter long and scary night.

When nanny gathered on wide lawn

For Olga little girls she had befriended,

To play with them Tatyana not intended

Preferring t'stay somewhere, be alone

For bored she was with pals' loud laughter

And noisy games that followed after.

XXVII

No kukly dazhe v eti gody

Tat'yana v ruki ne brala;

Pro vesti goroda, pro mody

Besedy s neyu ne vela.

I byli detskie prokazy

Ej chuzhdy; strashnye rasskazy

Zimoyu v temnote nochej

Plenyali bol'she serdce ej.

Kogda zhe nyanya sobirala

Dlya Ol'gi na shirokij lug

Vseh malen'kih ee podrug,

Ona v gorelki ne igrala,

Ej skuchen byl i zvonkij smeh,

I shum ih vetrenyh uteh.

XXVIII

To greet Aurora coming out,

She loved to stand on balcony before sunrise,

In time when stars seem just to be about

To fade away on getting pale high skies,

When edge of earth lights up so low

And wind, dawn's partner, starts to blow,

When day his power starts t'embark.

In winter, when the lightless dark

Possesses hemisphere longer,

And longer dreams the lazy East

In silence calm with Moon in mist

When cold grows faster stronger,

She woke in neither morning nor in night

And had the bedside candle light.

XXVIII

Ona lyubila na balkone

Preduprezhdat' zari voshod,

Kogda na blednom nebosklone

Zvezd ischezaet horovod,

I tiho kraj zemli svetleet,

I, vestnik utra, veter veet,

I vshodit postepenno den'.

Zimoj, kogda nochnaya ten'

Polmirom dole obladaet,

I dole v prazdnoj tishine,

Pri otumanennoj lune,

Vostok lenivyj pochivaet,

V privychnyj chas probuzhdena

Vstavala pri svechah ona.

XXIX

Since days of childhood she was into books,

They substituted her the life itself.

She fell in love with stories of two crooks,

Rousseau and Richardson, in novels on her shelf.

Her father was good man, a decent one,

Left in the century just passed, its son,

No harm in books he ever could perceive

As never touched a single printed leaf.

He thought them be a trifle, kind of toy,

He never slightest care took

What was his daughter secret book

Laid under pillow, calm and coy.

His wife was woman kind of such

That loved old Richardson so much

XXIX

Ej rano nravilis' romany;

Oni ej zamenyali vse;

Ona vlyublyalasya v obmany

I Richardsona i Russo.

Otec ee byl dobryj malyj,

V proshedshem veke zapozdalyj;

No v knigah ne vidal vreda;

On, ne chitaya nikogda,

Ih pochital pustoj igrushkoj

I ne zabotilsya o tom,

Kakoj u dochki tajnyj tom

Dremal do utra pod podushkoj.

ZHena zh ego byla sama

Ot Richardsona bez uma.

XXX

She loved the books by Richardson

But not because them read, alas,

Nor due to fact that Grandison

She would prefer to old Lovlas.

But long ago princess Aline,

Her moscow cousin very fine,

Did talk a lot about them.

Was fiance her man back then,

But she longed for another person,

Who looked more handsome and refined,

Attracted her with more profound mind,

Who seemed to her a way more awesome:

This Grandison, who was that fine and smart,

Was quite a gambler and a sergeant in the guard.

XXX

Ona lyubila Richardsona

Ne potomu, chtoby prochla,

Ne potomu, chtob Grandisona

Ona Lovlasu predpochla;

No v starinu knyazhna Alina,

Ee moskovskaya kuzina,

Tverdila chasto ej ob nih.

V to vremya byl eshche zhenih

Ee suprug, no po nevole;

Ona vzdyhala o drugom,

Kotoryj serdcem i umom

Ej nravilsya gorazdo bole:

Sej Grandison byl slavnyj frant,

Igrok i gvardii serzhant.

XXXI

Like his outfits, her dresses were

Well-made and followed couture haut;

But there was none of her opinion to care

And to the altar girl was brought.

To make her sorrow gradually fade,

The clever husband too her to estate

That was quite far from city in the countryside

Where she amongst some strangers had t'reside.

At first she cried, smashed china - was enraged,

And even tried to seek divorce,

But things went smoothly not bit worse,

In household routine she got engaged -

Got used. The habit is God's gift, it's His tribute:

To happiness it's equal substitute.

XXXI

Kak on, ona byla odeta

Vsegda po mode i k licu;

No, ne sprosyas' ee soveta,

Devicu povezli k vencu.

I, chtob ee rasseyat' gore,

Razumnyj muzh uehal vskore

V svoyu derevnyu, gde ona,

Bog znaet kem okruzhena,

Rvalas' i plakala snachala,

S suprugom chut' ne razvelas';

Potom hozyajstvom zanyalas',

Privykla i dovol'na stala.

Privychka svyshe nam dana:

Zamena schastiyu ona.

XXXII

The habit sweetened sorrow's pain

She'd thought she couldn't bear;

But soon she found out way

Placated her forever:

She by the way found out means

To rule husband unsuspecting this,

To govern him like autocrat -

And things went better after that.

She ran estate with iron hand,

Ran budget and conserved mush-rooms,

Shaved heads of servants, serves and grooms,

On Saturdays to banya went,

And beat her maids up when mad -

T'her husband not reporting that.

XXXII

Privychka usladila gore,

Neotrazimoe nichem;

Otkrytie bol'shoe vskore

Ee uteshilo sovsem:

Ona mezh delom i dosugom

Otkryla tajnu, kak suprugom

Samoderzhavno upravlyat',

I vsŁ togda poshlo na stat'.

Ona ezzhala po rabotam,

Solila na zimu griby,

Vela rashody, brila lby,

Hodila v banyu po subbotam,

Sluzhanok bila oserdyas' -

Vse eto muzha ne sprosyas'.

XXXIII

In albums of her friends and kin

She wrote with blood as ink in pen

And called Praskovia `Pauline'

And spoke as if she sang,

She wore a corset though too tight,

And Russian `N' t'pronounce liked

The nasal way French people do;

But soon got tired of these too;

And she forgot princess Aline

And corset, albums, poems she collected -

The touchy ones t'which girls so well reacted,

And called Akulka maid she used to call Seline,

And had remodeled a bonnet

And quilted housecoat she hidden had.

XXXIII

Byvalo, pisyvala krov'yu

Ona v al'bomy nezhnyh dev,

Zvala Polinoyu Praskov'yu

I govorila naraspev,

Korset nosila ochen' uzkij,

I russkij N kak N francuzskij

Proiznosit' umela v nos;

No skoro vse perevelos';

Korset, al'bom, knyazhnu Alinu,

Stishkov chuvstvitel'nyh tetrad'

Ona zabyla; stala zvat'

Akul'koj prezhnyuyu Selinu

I obnovila nakonec

Na vate shlafor i chepec.

XXXIV

Her husband's love was very tender -

He cared not of what she did,

He trusted her, in business did not enter,

In dressing gown came dawn to eat;

His life flowed smoothly at a stable pace;

By evenings visited his place

Of neighbours friendly flock,

Friends with whom easy was to joke,

And gossip, and sometimes complain -

Thus time was spent;

And by the way was Olga sent

T'prepare tea for those who came,

Tea followed supper, then time approached to sleep,

And at this point guests would start to leave.

XXXIV

No muzh lyubil ee serdechno,

V ee zatei ne vhodil,

Vo vsem ej veroval bespechno,

A sam v halate el i pil;

Pokojno zhizn' ego katilas';

Pod vecher inogda shodilas'

Sosedej dobraya sem'ya,

Neceremonnye druz'ya,

I potuzhit' i pozloslovit'

I posmeyat'sya koj o chem.

Prohodit vremya; mezhdu tem

Prikazhut Ol'ge chaj gotovit',

Tam uzhin, tam i spat' pora,

I gosti edut so dvora.

XXXV

In their life they didn't trait and didn't amend

The customs of the gracious past,

Had pancakes rich on winter's last weekend,

And twice a year they had fast,

They loved round dancing, round swing,

Folk songs at dinner table to sing,

On day of Trinity when people at the church

Would gather service there to watch,

To listen t'it concealing yawn,

When moved the two would sure drop

Three tears, then they'd stop;

Like air needed kvas alone,

At their table it was strictly quite observed

T'have their guests according to the rank be served.

XXXV

Oni hranili v zhizni mirnoj

Privychki miloj stariny;

U nih na maslenice zhirnoj

Vodilis' russkie bliny;

Dva raza v god oni goveli;

Lyubili kruglye kacheli,

Podblyudny pesni, horovod;

V den' Troicyn, kogda narod

Zevaya slushaet moleben,

Umil'no na puchok zari

Oni ronyali slezki tri;

Im kvas kak vozduh byl potreben,

I za stolom u nih gostyam

Nosili blyuda po chinam.

XXXVI

In such a life they both were growing old.

And finally sepulchre's doors were opened

To let the husband in the darkness and in cold =

He left the family be orphan.

Before the dinner-time he gone,

A neighbour came, he came to mourn,

And mourned man's kids, his wife as well -

A way more faithful and sincere, I should tell.

He was a simple, good landlord,

And where his ashes now are laying

The tombstone there is saying:

`Dimitry Larin, slave of Lord,

A humble sinner and a brigadier,

He rests in peace beneath right here.'

XXXVI

I tak oni stareli oba.

I otvorilis' nakonec

Pered suprugom dveri groba,

I novyj on priyal venec.

On umer v chas pered obedom,

Oplakannyj svoim sosedom,

Det'mi i vernoyu zhenoj

CHistoserdechnej, chem inoj.

On byl prostoj i dobryj barin,

I tam, gde prah ego lezhit,

Nadgrobnyj pamyatnik glasit:

Smirennyj greshnik, Dmitrij Larin,

Gospodnij rab i brigadir,

Pod kamnem sim vkushaet mir.

XXXVII

When back to home Penates he came,

Vladimir visited the tombstone

That beared neighbour's humble name,

Sighed over ashes laid alone.

For many hours Lensky's heart remained sad

`Oh, Poor Yorick!- solemnly he said,-

He used to hold me in his arms,

As kid I played more times than ones

With medal for Ochakovo he'd got.

He wanted Olga marry me,

He wondered if he was that day to see...'

And moved with gloom he never sought

Vladimir quickly after that inscribed

A tombstone madrigal of epitaphic type.

XXXVII

Svoim penatam vozvrashchennyj,

Vladimir Lenskij posetil

Soseda pamyatnik smirennyj,

I vzdoh on peplu posvyatil;

I dolgo serdcu grustno bylo.

"Poor Yorick!1- molvil on unylo,-

On na rukah menya derzhal.

Kak chasto v detstve ya igral

Ego Ochakovskoj medal'yu!

On Ol'gu prochil za menya,

On govoril: dozhdus' li dnya?.."

I, polnyj iskrennej pechalyo,

Vladimir tut zhe nachertal

Emu nadgrobnyj madrigal.

XXXVIII

And there as well, in tears, with a sad inscription

He honored ashes of beloved kin:

His father's memory, his mother's in addition...

Alas! How much it's sad and grim,

As momentary harvest on the furrows of the life,

A generation cometh, growth t'meet sciecle's knife,

It follows the divine intent unknown,

And then it's followed by another to be grown...

And so behaves the flippant tribe of us -

It grows, it moves, and boils, even dares

To push to grave its own forbears.

But soon enough the time will come, alas,

Grandchildren our will one lucky day

Push us all off world, push us away!

XXXVIII

I tam zhe nadpis'yu pechal'noj

Otca i materi, v slezah,

Pochtil on prah patriarhal'nyj...

Uvy! na zhiznennyh brazdah

Mgnovennoj zhatvoj pokolen'ya,

Po tajnoj vole providen'ya,

Voshodyat, zreyut i padut;

Drugie im vosled idut...

Tak nashe vetrenoe plemya

Rastet, volnuetsya, kipit

I k grobu pradedov tesnit.

Pridet, pridet i nashe vremya,

I nashi vnuki v dobryj chas

Iz mira vytesnyat i nas!

XXXIX

Enjoy this fragile life, my dear friends,

Enjoy it now while you are allowed!

I realize how far its insignificance extends,

I'm not attached to it - I state it out-loud!

I closed my eyes to phantams and illusion,

But vaguest hopes sometimes do bring confusion

In my old heart that beats in chest:

Without trace I'd be upset to rest

In peace, when I'm most fair Judge await.

I live and write not for a praise;

But seems to me, I should seek ways

To have some fame in my most humble fate,

To have at least a sound to remind

About Pushkin to the mankind

XXXIX

Pokamest upivajtes' eyu,

Sej legkoj zhizniyu, druz'ya!

Ee nichtozhnost' razumeyu

I malo k nej privyazan ya;

Dlya prizrakov zakryl ya vezhdy;

No otdalennye nadezhdy

Trevozhat serdce inogda:

Bez neprimetnogo sleda

Mne bylo b grustno mir ostavit'.

ZHivu, pishu ne dlya pohval;

No ya by, kazhetsya, zhelal

Pechal'nyj zhrebij svoj proslavit',

CHtob obo mne, kak vernyj drug,

Napomnil hot' edinyj zvuk.

XL

Maybe one day it will be touching someone's heart;

And stanza I had written,

Preserved by fate, would not depart

To Hades, sink in Lethe or be smitten.

Or (that's a hope too flattering to me)

An ignoramus-then-to-be

Would point at my then renowned picture

And say without mock or stricture

`That was a poet, man, I'm tellin'. '

Accept my thanks, disciple of the muses,

The one whose memory then chooses

T'preserve my fleeting verse, maybe its spelling,

Whose gracious hand would pet

The laurels on the oldman's head!

XL

I ch'e-nibud' on serdce tronet;

I, sohranennaya sud'boj,

Byt' mozhet, v Lete ne potonet

Strofa, slagaemaya mnoj;

Byt' mozhet (lestnaya nadezhda!),

Ukazhet budushchij nevezhda

Na moj proslavlennyj portret

I molvit: to-to byl poet!

Primi zh moi blagodaren'ya,

Poklonnik mirnyh Aonid,

O ty, ch'ya pamyat' sohranit

Moi letuchie tvoren'ya,

CH'ya blagosklonnaya ruka

Potreplet lavry starika!


I
"Kuda? Uzh eti mne poety!"
-- Proshchaj, Onegin, mne pora.
"YA ne derzhu tebya; no gde ty
Svoi provodish' vechera?" --
U Larinyh.- "Vot eto chudno.
Pomiluj! i tebe ne trudno
Tam kazhdyj vecher ubivat'?"
-- Ni malo.- "Ne mogu ponyat'.
Otsele vizhu, chto takoe:
Vo-pervyh (slushaj, prav li ya?),
Prostaya, russkaya sem'ya,
K gostyam userdie bol'shoe,
Varen'e, vechnyj razgovor
Pro dozhd', pro len, pro skotnyj dvor..."

I
Where are you going? Oh, these poets' follies!
- Goodbye, Onegin, time for me to go.
"I don't delay you, but where do you always
Go every evening, who attracts you so?"
-I go to th'Larins -- "Oh, now that is the news!
For goodness sake, how came you are seduced
To kill all evenings over there?"
-- I'm not at all. -- "Oh, listen, let's be fair:
Tell me the secret as all I see is such:
First (though I'd admit I might be wrong)
A simple Russian family, too prone
To comfort dear guests too much,
Jam served, and endless fruitless talk
Of rain, of flax, and newest breed of hog..."

II
-- YA tut eshche bedy ne vizhu.
"Da, skuka, vot beda, moj drug".
-- YA modnyj svet vash nenavizhu;
Milee mne domashnij krug,
Gde ya mogu... - "Opyat' ekloga!
Da polno, milyj, radi boga.
Nu chto zh? ty edesh': ochen' zhal'.
Ah, slushaj, Lenskij; da nel'zya l'
Uvidet' mne Fillidu etu,
Predmet i myslej, i pera,
I slez, i rifm et cetera?..
Predstav' menya". - Ty shutish'.- "Netu".
-- YA rad.- "Kogda zhe?" -- Hot' sejchas.
Oni s ohotoj primut nas.

II
-- I do not see a trouble in these yet.
"But bore, my friend, the boredom is the trouble."
-- The fashionable monde -- it makes me fret,
I would prefer home circle, on its rubble
I may... - "Oh, that's eclogue again!
Enough, good friend, become mundane.
So, you are leaving: what a pity.
And, listen, Lensky, to that closed forbidden city
Could I proceed with you for meeting
Phyllida, the object of your thoughts and lines,
And tears and your many rhymes?..
Acquaint us".- You must be kidding. --
"No way". -- "I'd love to" -- "When?"
- "Right now, they would be happy t'see us then."

III
Poedem.-
Poskakali drugi,
YAvilis'; im rastocheny
Poroj tyazhelye uslugi
Gostepriimnoj stariny.
Obryad izvestnyj ugoshchen'ya:
Nesut na blyudechkah varen'ya,
Na stolik stavyat voshchanoj
Kuvshin s brusnichnoyu vodoj,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

III
Let's go. --
And both galloped down hill in race.
When they arrived, upon them were showered
All hospitality of past sometimes so hard to face
Though with tradition it's empowered:
Cer'mony's known of how to treat the guest:
On saucers -- confiture (the better of the best),
On table then is brought and set
A jag of berry water, yet...
 

IV
Oni dorogoj samoj kratkoj
Domoj letyat vo ves' opor.
Teper' poslushaem ukradkoj
Geroev nashih razgovor:
-- Nu chto zh, Onegin? ty zevaesh'.-
-- "Privychka, Lenskij".- No skuchaesh'
Ty kak-to bol'she.- "Net, ravno.
Odnako v pole uzh temno;
Skorej! poshel, poshel, Andryushka!
Kakie glupye mesta!
A kstati: Larina prosta,
No ochen' milaya starushka,
Boyus': brusnichnaya voda
Mne ne nadelala b vreda.

IV
Returning home, they took the shortest way
And all the way they were hurrying.
Let's overhear what the heroes had to say
Though, it's not good and kind of cunning.
-- So, how was it, Onegin? You are yawing.-
- "Just habit, Lensky" -- Was it that much boring?
-- Not really, boredom made ‘bout half of it.
It's getting dark, to move we need,
Now go, Andryushka, move away from shady
And stupid looking area around;
And, by the way, t'admit I'm bound
That Larina is simple, but she's cute old lady,
I worry if the berry water that we had
Could bother stomach, dear Lensky friend.

V
Skazhi: kotoraya Tat'yana?"
-- Da ta, kotoraya grustna
I molchaliva, kak Svetlana,
Voshla i sela u okna.-
"Neuzhto ty vlyublen v men'shuyu?"
-- A chto? - "YA vybral by druguyu,
Kogda b ya byl, kak ty, poet.
V chertah u Ol'gi zhizni net.
Toch'-v-toch' v Vandikovoj Madonne:
Krugla, krasna licom ona,
Kak eta glupaya luna
Na etom glupom nebosklone.
Vladimir suho otvechal
I posle vo ves' put' molchal.

V
Now tell which of the two's Tatyana?"
-- The one who was so taciturn,
And like Svetlana, she was piana
When came and sat by window in her turn.-
"And you're in love with younger one, ar'n't you?
-So what? "I would have chosen then
The other of the two if I were poet as you are
In Olga's features il'ya pas
De life as in Madonna by Van Dyke:
Her face is round, it is red,
With stupid Moon that has been set
On this most stupid skies she is alike."
Vladimir t'it replied in manner quite restrained
And in the silence rest of ride was made.

VI
Mezh tem Onegina yavlen'e
U Larinyh proizvelo
Na vseh bol'shoe vpechatlen'e
I vseh sosedej razvleklo.
Poshla dogadka za dogadkoj.
Vse stali tolkovat' ukradkoj,
SHutit', sudit' ne bez greha,
Tat'yane prochit' zheniha:
Inye dazhe utverzhdali,
CHto svad'ba slazhena sovsem,
No ostanovlena zatem,
CHto modnyh kolec ne dostali.
0 svad'be Lenskogo davno
U nih uzh bylo resheno.

VI
The fact that to the Larins E.Onegin paid a visit
Impressed all neighbors quite a lot
Society felt stirred, thou 'tis quite hard to please it
It felt amused and explanations sought
A guess was aired after guess --
The flow that no one thought t' suppress
Of implications, jokes that started touching soon
Tatyana Larina's prospective groom:
There were some who swore to know
The wedding's set but paused for little while
‘cause couldn't find the rings in style
Of duly fashion; there was even more to go:
About the date when Lensky will get married
They neither contradicted nor in options varied.

VII
Tat'yana slushala s dosadoj
Takie spletni; no tajkom
S neiz®yasnimoyu otradoj
Nevol'no dumala o tom;
I v serdce duma zaronilas';
Pora prishla, ona vlyubilas'.
Tak v zemlyu padshee zerno
Vesny ognem ozhivleno.
Davno ee voobrazhen'e,
Sgoraya negoj i toskoj,
Alkalo pishchi rokovoj;
Davno serdechnoe tomlen'e
Tesnilo ej mladuyu grud';
Dusha zhdala... kogo-nibud',

VII
Tatyana heard with irritation
Those gossips, but at heart she thought
With unexplain'ble satisfaction
Of whether gossips grounds got.
In heart a thought was planted there to dwell;
The time had come, in love she fell.
In manner such a seed revives
When springtime Sun has opened its warm eyes.
For long the girl's imagination
Combusting was in sorrow and in bliss
Was craving her seducing pain to please,
To pacify that torturing sensation
That tore her chest and burnt her like the Sun.
She waited for specifically... someone.

VIII
I dozhdalas'... Otkrylis' ochi;
Ona skazala: eto on!
Uvy! teper' i dni i nochi,
I zharkij odinokij son,
Vse polno im; vse deve miloj
Bez umolku volshebnoj siloj
Tverdit o nem. Dokuchny ej
I zvuki laskovyh rechej,
I vzor zabotlivoj prislugi.
V unynie pogruzhena,
Gostej ne slushaet ona
I proklinaet ih dosugi,
Ih neozhidannyj priezd
I prodolzhitel'nyj prisest.

VIII
And found one... Her eyes got filled with light
‘He is the one' -- the girl has met her prince
Alas! Now all the day as well as all the night
As well as her so hot and lon'ly dream
Are filled with him, and every cell
About him is eager t' tell
With magic power. Bored became
With how-are-yous always the same,
With caring sights of house-maids.
But in the blue,
She wants her quests be gone but few,
But even few she sees and hates
For dropping in and staying late
Not caring how much welcome was their raid.

IX
Teper' s kakim ona vniman'em
CHitaet sladostnyj roman,
S kakim zhivym ocharovan'em
P'et obol'stitel'nyj obman!
Schastlivoj siloyu mechtan'ya
Odushevlennye sozdan'ya,
Lyubovnik YUlii Vol'mar,
Malek-Adel' i de Linar,
I Verter, muchenik myatezhnyj,
I bespodobnyj Grandison,
Kotoryj nam navodit son,-
Vse dlya mechtatel'nicy nezhnoj
V edinyj obraz obleklis',
V odnom Onegine slilis'.

IX
Now how attentively she reads
Love novel with deep sighs,
And drinks the juice of sweetest seeds
Of its seducing lies!
With happy force of dream embodied,
With life by thought again rewarded
Were lover of known Julia Wolmar,
Malek Adel and de Lenar
And Werther, martyr full of riot,
And that unique pal Grandison,
Who t' make us sleepy very prone, --
All these for the day-dreamer quiet
United in one single person,
In one Onegin, made him awesome.

X
Voobrazhayas' geroinej
Svoih vozlyublennyh tvorcov,
Klarisoj, YUliej, Del'finoj,
Tat'yana v tishine lesov
Odna s opasnoj knigoj brodit,
Ona v nej ishchet i nahodit
Svoj tajnyj zhar, svoi mechty,
Plody serdechnoj polnoty,
Vzdyhaet i, sebe prisvoya
CHuzhoj vostorg, chuzhuyu grust',
V zabven'e shepchet naizust'
Pis'mo dlya milogo geroya...
No nash geroj, kto b ni byl on,
Uzh verno byl ne Grandison.

X.
A heroine herself she sees
For writers she adores,
Like their Delphina, Julia, Claris,
She walks in silent woods, of coarse,
With dan'g'rous book. Between the lines
She searches for (and there she finds)
Source for her dreams, her secret fire,
Fruits for the flooding heart desire.
She sighs and chooses t' overtake
Some strangers' grief and joy the way they art
And whispers in the bliss by heart
A letter to the one who came her to awake...
However that would be quite wrong
T' consider our hero kind of Grandison.

XI
Svoj slog na vazhnyj lad nastroya,
Byvalo, plamennyj tvorec
YAvlyal nam svoego geroya
Kak sovershenstva obrazec.
On odaryal predmet lyubimyj,
Vsegda nepravedno gonimyj,
Dushoj chuvstvitel'noj, umom
I privlekatel'nym licom.
Pitaya zhar chistejshej strasti,
Vsegda vostorzhennyj geroj
Gotov byl zhertvovat' soboj,
I pri konce poslednej chasti
Vsegda nakazan byl porok,
Dobru dostojnyj byl venok.

XI
Once had his quill tuned to the serious tone,
Creative writer would begin
Depicting hero as embodiment alone
Of perfect man without sin.
He'd give to his beloved creation,
Who's always under an unjust, sad condemnation,
Sensible soul, quick mind,
Good-looking face and blue-eye sight.
And, burning with some pure passion,
This always joyous friend would rise
For something himself t' sacrifice,
And by the end there will be a confession,
And will be punished evil vice
The good will shine freed of all lies.

XII
A nynche vse umy v tumane,
Moral' na nas navodit son,
Porok lyubezen, i v romane,
I tam uzh torzhestvuet on.
Britanskoj muzy nebylicy
Trevozhat son otrokovicy,
I stal teper' ee kumir
Ili zadumchivyj Vampir,
Ili Mel'mot, brodyaga mrachnyj,
Il' Vechnyj ZHid, ili Korsar,
Ili tainstvennyj Sbogar.
Lord Bajron prihot'yu udachnoj
Oblek v unylyj romantizm
I beznadezhnyj egoizm.
 

XII
Now, it appears, human minds are blunted,
Morality is bore and makes us yawn,
The vice is welcome and no longer hunted,
In novels neither short nor long.
And fairy-tales of British muse
Disturb sweet dream of tender youth,
And then she started to admire
As idol taciturn Vampire,
Or Melmoth, gloomy vagabond,
Or Wandering Jew, or the Corsair,
Or that mysterious Sbogar.
Lord Byron with his lovely folly turned
Sad, joyless romanticism
Into hopeless egoism.

XIII
Druz'ya moi, chto zh tolku v etom?
Byt' mozhet, voleyu nebes,
YA perestanu byt' poetom,
V menya vselitsya novyj bes,
I, Febovy prezrev ugrozy,
Unizhus' do smirennoj prozy;
Togda roman na staryj lad
Zajmet veselyj moj zakat.
Ne muki tajnye zlodejstva
YA grozno v nem izobrazhu,
No prosto vam pereskazhu
Predan'ya russkogo semejstva,
Lyubvi plenitel'nye sny
Da nravy nashej stariny.

XIII
My dear friends, tell what all this is for?
Maybe, one day by heaven's will
I won't be poet any more
And other devil me would fill,
And caring not of Phoebus' threats
I'll condescend to some prosaic sets;
And novel in such out-dated manner
Would fill my joyous dusk in country manor.
I shall depict in that my piece
No secret tortures of the evil,
But simple life without upheaval
Of Russian family in peace,
Its legends, dreams of love and rest
And habits of the world of days of past

XIV
Pereskazhu prostye rechi
Otca il' dyadi-starika,
Detej uslovlennye vstrechi
U staryh lip, u ruchejka;
Neschastnoj revnosti muchen'ya,
Razluku, slezy primiren'ya,
Possoryu vnov', i nakonec
YA povedu ih pod venec...
YA vspomnyu rechi negi strastnoj,
Slova toskuyushchej lyubvi,
Kotorye v minuvshi dni
U nog lyubovnicy prekrasnoj
Mne prihodili na yazyk,
Ot koih ya teper' otvyk.

XIV
To readers then I shall be just repeating
What father or aged uncle told,
Recount how kids secretly were meeting
By creek, or bass-trees old;
I will describe how jealousy them tore,
How two were parted, reconciled once more.
I'll break them up again before the ending
Which would be them in front of altar standing...
In this my piece I'll have to recollect
Words of delight and sad infatuation
That used t' sustain my soul's ration
Long time ago when in neglect
I knelt in front of beautiful my lover,
Words now forgotten, dust is their cover.

XV
Tat'yana, milaya Tat'yana!
S toboj teper' ya slezy l'yu;
Ty v ruki modnogo tirana
Uzh otdala sud'bu svoyu.
Pogibnesh', milaya; no prezhde
Ty v oslepitel'noj nadezhde
Blazhenstvo temnoe zovesh',
Ty negu zhizni uznaesh',
Ty p'esh' volshebnyj yad zhelanij,
Tebya presleduyut mechty:
Vezde voobrazhaesh' ty
Priyuty schastlivyh svidanij;
Vezde, vezde pered toboj
Tvoj iskusitel' rokovoj.

XV
Tatyana! Dear sweet my girl!
I cry with you not able to stay silent;
You have already made the fatal hurl
When gave your life to fashionable tyrant.
You'll perish, dear, but before you' re lost
In dazzling hope you will exhaust,
In summoning obscure beatitude
You learn life's happiness so crude,
You drink enchanting poison of desire,
You're hunted by day-dreams,
And everywhere to you there seems
To be asylum for a rendezvous; and dire,
Beloved tempter stands beside
Always and everywhere, day and night.

XVI
Toska lyubvi Tat'yanu gonit,
I v sad idet ona grustit',
I vdrug nedvizhny ochi klonit,
I len' ej dalee stupit'.
Pripodnyalasya grud', lanity
Mgnovennym plamenem pokryty,
Dyhan'e zamerlo' v ustah,
I v sluhe shum, i blesk v ochah...
Nastanet noch'; luna obhodit
Dozorom dal'nyj svod nebes,
I solovej vo mgle dreves
Napevy zvuchnye zavodit.
Tat'yana v temnote ne spit
I tiho s nyanej govorit:

XVI
Love's anguish can her bring no peace,
To yearn Tatyana goes to garden,
Becomes she there weak in knees,
Can step no more all of a sudden.
She straightens up, her lips then light
With instant fire very bright,
And something takes her breath away,
She hears noise, her eyes ray...
The night then comes; on patrol Moon
Makes tour across the heaven's sphere,
And nightingale in trees somewhere very near
Sings its most clear tune.
Tatyana doesn't sleep, red are her cheeks,
With nanny quietly she speaks:

XVII
"Ne spitsya, nyanya: zdes' tak dushno!
Otkroj okno da syad' ko mne". --
CHto, Tanya, chto s toboj? - "Mne skuchno,
Pogovorim o starine".
-- O chem zhe, Tanya? YA, byvalo,
Hranila v pamyati ne malo
Starinnyh bylej,nebylic
Pro zlyh duhov i pro devic;
A nynche vse mne temno, Tanya:
CHto znala, to zabyla. Da,
Prishla hudaya chereda!
Zashiblo...- "Rasskazhi mne, nyanya,
Pro vashi starye goda:
Byla ty vlyublena togda?"

XVII
"Can't sleep, sweet nanny, it's so stuffy here!
Please, open window and come sit by me."
-- Oh, Tanya, what is wrong with you, my dear?
-- "I'm bored. Let's talk ‘bout past, can we?"
-- ‘bout what? Now gone those days
When easily from top of head I'd says
The stories that took place and that did not
‘bout evil spirits and ‘bout girls in their plot;
Now, Tanya, for me it's all blank:
What'd known -- forgot, you see
It looks like it's black stripe in life for me!
"Tell, nanny, and with me please be frank,
About times you were young,
Were you in love with some... someone?"

XVIII
-- I polno, Tanya! V eti leta
My ne slyhali pro lyubov';
A to by sognala so sveta
Menya pokojnica svekrov'.-
"Da kak zhe ty venchalas', nyanya?" --
Tak, vidno, bog velel. Moj Vanya
Molozhe byl menya, moj svet,
A bylo mne trinadcat' let.
Nedeli dve hodila svaha
K moej rodne, i nakonec
Blagoslovil menya otec.
YA gor'ko plakala so straha,
Mne s plachem kosu raspleli,
Da s pen'em v cerkov' poveli.

XVIII
-- Oh, come on, Tanya, we back then
‘bout love didn't hear, didn't know,
If did I'd be kicked out when
My mom-in-law would learn me knowing so. --
"But nanny, how was then your wedding done?" --
How god arranged, you see, my man Ivan
Was younger than I was
I was thirteen then. But because
For two weeks a matchmaker had been coming
To all my kin, so finally
My father gave his bless to marrying me,
And scared, shivering and crying
I had undone my braid,
And went to church, in tears and afraid.

XIX
I vot vveli v sem'yu chuzhuyu...
Da ty ne slushaesh' menya...-
"Ah, nyanya, nyanya, ya toskuyu,
Mne toshno, milaya moya:
YA plakat', ya rydat' gotova!.." --
Ditya moe, ty nezdorova;
Gospod' pomiluj i spasi!
CHego ty hochesh', poprosi...
Daj okroplyu svyatoj vodoyu,
Ty vsya gorish'...- "YA ne bol'na:
YA... znaesh', nyanya... vlyublena" --
Ditya moe, gospod' s toboyu! --
I nyanya devushku s mol'boj
Krestila dryahloyu rukoj.

XIX
So, I was brought to other household...
But, you don't seem to listen t' me...
"But nanny, nanny, I am miserable, cold,
I am sick... how can't you see?
To cry I'm ready, weep I will!..."
-- My child, oh dear, are you ill?
For goodness sake, save us the Lord,
Is there something you may want?
And let me sprinkle holy water,
You are in fever... "Heavens are above,
I am not ill, I am... in... love"-
Lord be with you, oh sweet my daughter! --
And nanny with a trembling hand in prayer
Made sign of cross over her head in air.

XX
"YA vlyublena",- sheptala snova
Starushke s gorest'yu ona. --
Serdechnyj drug, ty nezdorova.-
"Ostav' menya: ya vlyublena".
I mezhdu tem luna siyala
I tomnym svetom ozaryala
Tat'yany blednye krasy,
I raspushchennye vlasy,
I kapli slez, i na skamejke
Pred geroinej molodoj,
S platkom na golove sedoj,
Starushku v dlinnoj telogrejke
I vse dremalo v tishine
Pri vdohnovitel'noj lune.

XX
‘I am in love' -- she whispered once again
To the old nanny sadly. --
My sweetie-pie, you are not well,
‘Leave me, I am in love so badly'.
Meanwhile the moon was shining bright,
And lit with tired opaque light
Tatyana's pale and beautiful young face,
Her hair undone that spread like waves,
Her teardrops, old woman sitting by
On bench in front of heroine so sad
With a kerchief on gray her head
In quilted jacket. Blessed by sky,
All things were resting in the quiet
Beneath the moon that everything inspired.

XXI
I serdcem daleko nosilas'
Tat'yana, smotrya na lunu...
Vdrug mysl' v ume ee rodilas'...
"Podi, ostav' menya odnu.
Daj, nyanya, mne pero, bumagu,
Da stol podvin'; ya skoro lyagu;
Prosti". I vot ona odna.
Vse tiho. Svetit ej luna.
Oblokotyas', Tat'yana pishet.
I vse Evgenij na ume,
I v neobdumannom pis'me
Lyubov' nevinnoj devy dyshit.
Pis'mo gotovo, slozheno...
Tat'yana! dlya kogo zh ono?

XXI
Was far away with all her heart
Tatyana looking at the moon,
And suddenly a thought came up:
"Leave me alone, go to your room,
Give me some paper, give me quill,
And move the table, soon I will
Go to the bed. I'm sorry' -- finally alone.
Moon shines. It's quiet, every sound has gone,
Tatyana starts to write a letter then,
And dear Eugeniy is in mind.
The words she writes are all of such a kind
That love of virgin lives in them.
The letter's done, the letter's ended...
Tatyana! T' whom is it intended?

XXII
YA znal krasavic nedostupnyh,
Holodnyh, chistyh, kak zima,
Neumolimyh, nepodkupnyh,
Nepostizhimyh dlya uma;
Divilsya ya ih spesi modnoj,
Ih dobrodeteli prirodnoj,
I, priznayus', ot nih bezhal,
I, mnitsya, s uzhasom chital
Nad ih brovyami nadpis' ada:
Ostav' nadezhdu navsegda
.
Vnushat' lyubov' dlya nih beda,
Pugat' lyudej dlya nih otrada.
Byt' mozhet, na bregah Nevy
Podobnyh dam vidali vy.

XXII
I knew those beauties one can't reach,
Like winter cold and pure,
Those one can't please, persuade, bewitch,
Or comprehend or otherwise allure;
With their vogue conceit and decency innate
I was amazed, but after all I am to state
Away from them I fled as I had read,
To me now seems, on their forehead
Inscription carved on gates of hell
"Abandon hopes whoever enters in"
T' inspire love for them is almost sin,
Inspiring fear makes them well.
You might have seen the women of this kind
When walked along the Neva by your side.

XXIII
Sredi poklonnikov poslushnyh
Drugih prichudnic ya vidal,
Samolyubivo ravnodushnyh
Dlya vzdohov strastnyh i pohval.
I chto zh nashel ya s izumlen'em?
Oni, surovym poveden'em
Pugaya robkuyu lyubov',
Ee privlech' umeli vnov',
Po krajnej mere, sozhalen'em,
Po krajnej mere, zvuk rechej
Kazalsya inogda nezhnej,
I s legkovernym osleplen'em
Opyat' lyubovnik molodoj
Bezhal za miloj suetoj.

XXIII
Another kind among their devotees
I did observe in now gone days,
Those women cared not in selfish bliss
‘bout sighs of passion and of praise.
What did I learn with such surprise?
The way they manage to disguise,
With strict behavior scared those in love and shy
But then attracted back the poor rejected guy
Sometimes entrapped him by remorse,
Sometimes -- with tenderness of voice
So that then he in love would have no choice
But follow blindly voice's source.
And runs the poor enchanted man
After that nonsense sweet. Like many ran.

XXIV
Za chto zh vinovnee Tat'yana?
Za to l', chto v miloj prostote
Ona ne vedaet obmana
I verit izbrannoj mechte?
Za to l', chto lyubit bez iskusstva,
Poslushnaya vlechen'yu chuvstva,
CHto tak doverchiva ona,
CHto ot nebes odarena
Voobrazheniem myatezhnym,
Umom i voleyu zhivoj,
I svoenravnoj golovoj,
I serdcem plamennym i nezhnym?
Uzheli ne prostite ej
Vy legkomysliya strastej?

XXIV
Why should we think Tatyana's worse?
For being beaut'fully naive
She knew no lies, or just because
Her chosen dream she wouldn't leave?
Or for the fact in love she can't pretend,
Her heart's desire able not t' amend,
Or ‘cause she's very trusting girl
‘Cause her by heavens gifted soul
Is blessed with fierce imagination,
With swiftest mind and lively will,
Persistent character and real
Combusting heart. On this occasion
Won't you forgive her that she has
In heart affairs easy-minded-ness?

XXV
Koketka sudit hladnokrovno,
Tat'yana lyubit ne shutya
I predaetsya bezuslovno
Lyubvi, kak miloe ditya.
Ne govorit ona: otlozhim --
Lyubvi my cenu tem umnozhim,
Vernee v seti zavedem;
Sperva tshcheslavie kol'nem
Nadezhdoj, tam nedoumen'em
Izmuchim serdce, a potom
Revnivym ozhivim ognem;
A to, skuchaya naslazhden'em,
Nevol'nik hitryj iz okov
Vsechasno vyrvat'sya gotov.

XXV
While a cocotte thinks in cold blood,
Tatyana's love not to be joked,
She is in it with all her heart
Like simple child in it she's soaked.
She doesn't say: let's push away the guy
For so we would love's value multiply
And better catching be the net;
At first his vanity we'll get
With hope, then -- have his heart to ache
With being uncertain, then to life
With jealous fire him we will revive;
Or, bored in pleasure, cunning slave will make
Attempt to run away
In every second on just any day.

XXVI
Eshche predvizhu zatrudnen'ya:
Rodnoj zemli spasaya chest',
YA dolzhen budu, bez somnen'ya,
Pis'mo Tat'yany perevest'.
Ona po-russki ploho znala,
ZHurnalov nashih ne chitala,
I vyrazhalasya s trudom
Na yazyke svoem rodnom,
Itak, pisala po-francuzski...
CHto delat'! povtoryayu vnov':
Donyne damskaya lyubov'
Ne iz®yasnyalasya po-russki,
Donyne gordyj nash yazyk
K pochtovoj proze ne privyk.

XXVI
Obstacles of another kind I also can foretell:
Defending honor of homeland
I'll have to make as well
Translation t' letter by Tatyana's hand.
She Russian knew quite far from mere good,
Read our magazines she almost never would,
With quite an effort she herself expressed
In mother tongue though did her best.
She wrote the letter par la langue Francaise
What can I do? But stressing it once more
A lady's love's unable now and couldn't before
Itself in Russian dare to express.
Till now proud our tongue unable was to force
Itself to fall to using postal prose.

XXVII
YA znayu: dam hotyat zastavit'
CHitat' po-russki. Pravo, strah!
Mogu li ah sebe predstavit'
S "Blagonamerennym" v rukah!
YA shlyus' na vas, moi poety;
Ne pravda l': milye predmety,
Kotorym, za svoi grehi,
Pisali vtajne vy stihi,
Kotorym serdce posvyashchali,
Ne vse li, russkim yazykom
Vladeya slabo i s trudom,
Ego tak milo iskazhali,
I v ih ustah yazyk chuzhoj
Ne obratilsya li v rodnoj?

XXVII
I know: it has been circulating
To make the ladies read en Russe
But Gee! How can I just be waiting
To find a lady with ‘The good-intentioned' used?
My poets, I appeal to you
Would it be terribly untrue
To say: sweet objects t' whom you poems wrote,
Redeeming sins, in front of whom unfold
You had your hearts, so, haven't they
In speaking Russian being bad
And looking stressed and kind of sad,
Blurred it in such a darling way,
And turned a language of another nation
Into a mother tongue of choice and occasion?

XXVIII
Ne daj mne bog sojtis' na bale
Il' pri raz®ezde na kryl'ce
S seminaristom v zheltoj shale
Il' s akademikom v chepce!
Kak ust rumyanyh bez ulybki;
Bez grammaticheskoj oshibki
YA russkoj rechi ne lyublyu.
Byt' mozhet, na bedu moyu,
Krasavic novyh pokolen'e,
ZHurnalov vnyav molyashchij glas,
K grammatike priuchit nas;
Stihi vvedut v upotreblen'e;
No ya... kakoe delo mne?
YA veren budu starine.

XXVIII
And God forbids me meeting at a ball
Or have me by an entrance met
By scholar wearing shoes avec high sole
Or member of Academy in quilted hat!
Like seeing smileless lips of color of a peach
I do not like to listen to the Russian speech
Without a slight grammatical mistake.
Maybe, the newest beauties' make
Would teach us being used to grammar
For they had heard the plea
Of magazines -- this'd mean the end for me --
Thus making poetry an article of glamour;
But I... With me it doesn't have a thing to do,
To past I'll carry on allegiance due.

XXIX
Nepravil'nyj, nebrezhnyj lepet,
Netochnyj vygovor rechej
Po-prezhnemu serdechnyj trepet
Proizvedut v grudi moej;
Raskayat'sya vo mne net sily,
Mne gallicizmy budut mily,
Kak proshloj yunosti grehi,
Kak Bogdanovicha stihi.
No polno. Mne pora zanyat'sya
Pis'mom krasavicy moej;
YA slovo dal, i chto zh? ej-ej
Teper' gotov uzh otkazat'sya.
YA znayu: nezhnogo Parni
Pero ne v mode v nashi dni.

XXIX
Not right and careless way of talk,
And not correct pronunciation
Still make my heart to thrill and rock
In its chest-locked location.
I've got not strength to feel remorse,
So, French-originated words
Remain welcome deep inside,
Like poems Bogdanovich used to write.
But that's enough. Now I've got to proceed
To letter of young beautiful my lady,
You have my word, but looks like I am ready
To call it back. And nowadays, indeed,
A fruit of quill of tender old Parny
Can't seek much interest as far as I can see.

XXX
Pevec Pirov i grusti tomnoj,
Kogda b eshche ty byl so mnoj,
YA stal by pros'boyu neskromnoj
Tebya trevozhit', milyj moj:
CHtob na volshebnye napevy
Perelozhil ty strastnoj devy
Inoplemennye slova.
Gde ty? pridi: svoi prava
Peredayu tebe s poklonom...
No posredi pechal'nyh skal,
Otvyknuv serdcem ot pohval,
Odin, pod finskim nebosklonom,
On brodit, i dusha ego
Ne slyshit gorya moego.

XXX
Oh, troubadour of Feasts and blissful lachrymose
If still you were standing by my hand
With impolite request you I would bother,
My utmost dear precious friend:
Would you translate to some enchanting chords
In foreign language written words
By girl in passion and delight?
Where are you? T' you I'll pass my right
For my respect to you is high...
But he, amidst those sad gray cliffs
Must've forgotten feeling an approval leaves
Alone, he walks beneath the Finnish sky,
His soul hears me no longer
My grief meanwhile is growing stronger

XXXI
Pis'mo Tat'yany predo mnoyu;
Ego ya svyato beregu,
CHitayu s tajnoyu toskoyu
I nachitat'sya ne mogu.
Kto ej vnushal i etu nezhnost',
I slov lyubeznuyu nebrezhnost'?
Kto ej vnushal umil'nyj vzor,
Bezumnyj serdca razgovor,
I uvlekatel'nyj i vrednyj?
YA ne mogu ponyat'. No vot
Nepolnyj, slabyj perevod,
S zhivoj kartiny spisok blednyj,
Ili razygrannyj Frejshic
Perstami robkih uchenic:

XXXI
And treasured as a sacred one, Tatyana's letter
Lays right in front of me on table
With reading it I'm able not myself to cater
Rereading it to satisfy me is unable.
Who taught her all this tenderness,
With words this nicest carelessness,
Who showed her how to look so pleasing
To speak her heart this way so teasing,
So fascinating and with such a drive?
I can't get this. But you may find below
And incomplete translation, quality its -- low
Like copy's -- to a picture full of life,
Or school production of ‘Free Shooter'
Deserving label ‘couldn't be cuter'

Pis'mo Tat'yany k Oneginu

YA k vam pishu -- chego zhe bole?
CHto ya mogu eshche skazat'?
Teper', ya znayu, v vashej vole
Menya prezren'em nakazat'.
No vy, k moej neschastnoj dole
Hot' kaplyu zhalosti hranya,
Vy ne ostavite menya.
Snachala ya molchat' hotela;
Pover'te: moego styda
Vy ne uznali b nikogda,
Kogda b nadezhdu ya imela
Hot' redko, hot' v nedelyu raz
V derevne nashej videt' vas,
CHtob tol'ko slyshat' vashi rechi,
Vam slovo molvit', i potom
Vse dumat', dumat' ob odnom
I den' i noch' do novoj vstrechi.
No govoryat, vy nelyudim;
V glushi, v derevne vse vam skuchno,
A my... nichem my ne blestim,
Hot' vam i rady prostodushno.
Zachem vy posetili nas?
V glushi zabytogo selen'ya
YA nikogda ne znala b vas,
Ne znala b gor'kogo muchen'ya.
Dushi neopytnoj volnen'ya
Smiriv so vremenem (kak znat'?),
Po serdcu ya nashla by druga,
Byla by vernaya supruga
I dobrodetel'naya mat'.
Drugoj!.. Net, nikomu na svete
Ne otdala by serdca ya!
To v vyshnem suzhdeno sovete...
To volya neba: ya tvoya;
Vsya zhizn' moya byla zalogom
Svidan'ya vernogo s toboj;
YA znayu, ty mne poslan bogom,
Do groba ty hranitel' moj...
Ty v snoviden'yah mne yavlyalsya,
Nezrimyj, ty mne byl uzh mil,
Tvoj chudnyj vzglyad menya tomil,
V dushe tvoj golos razdavalsya
Davno... net, eto byl ne son!
Ty chut' voshel, ya vmig uznala,
Vsya obomlela, zapylala
I v myslyah molvila: vot on!
Ne pravda l'? ya tebya slyhala:
Ty govoril so mnoj v tishi,
Kogda ya bednym pomogala
Ili molitvoj uslazhdala
Tosku volnuemoj dushi?
I v eto samoe mgnoven'e
Ne ty li, miloe viden'e,
V prozrachnoj temnote mel'knul,
Priniknul tiho k izgolov'yu?
Ne ty l', s otradoj i lyubov'yu,
Slova nadezhdy mne shepnul?
Kto ty, moj angel li hranitel',
Ili kovarnyj iskusitel':
Moi somnen'ya razreshi.
Byt' mozhet, eto vse pustoe,
Obman neopytnoj dushi!
I suzhdeno sovsem inoe...
No tak i byt'! Sud'bu moyu
Otnyne ya tebe vruchayu,
Pered toboyu slezy l'yu,
Tvoej zashchity umolyayu...
Voobrazi: ya zdes' odna,
Nikto menya ne ponimaet,
Rassudok moj iznemogaet,
I molcha gibnut' ya dolzhna.
YA zhdu tebya: edinym vzorom
Nadezhdy serdca ozhivi,
Il' son tyazhelyj perervi,
Uvy, zasluzhennym ukorom!
Konchayu! Strashno perechest'...
Stydom i strahom zamirayu...
No mne porukoj vasha chest',
I smelo ej sebya vveryayu...

Tatyana's letter to Onegin

I write to you -- what can be more than this?
What else to say could I attempt?
And now, I know, you may if you would please,
To punish me with your contempt.
But you cannot abandon me at ease
If slightest pity has been left
T' my fate of happiness bereft.
T' not say a word at first I wanted
Believe: about my shameful fall
You would've never learnt at all
If I still was by hope haunted
To have you come just once a week,
To see you here, listen how you speak
A couple words to you to tweet,
About one thing to think and then
All night and day to think ‘bout it again
Until next time when we will meet.
But people say you're not that out-going,
And here, in the countryside, you're bored
But we... we have no glitter brightly showing
And simply heartfelt welcome can afford.
Why did you come to our part of land?
I would've never met you nor I would've learnt
Such bitter torment in this settlement
By Lord forgotten in the back of the beyond.
And having pacified (who knows?) the Fronde,
Unrest of verdant soul as the time flies by,
I would've found a friend for heart, a mate,
A faithful wife I could've made,
A virtuous mother could be I.
Somebody else!.. I couldn't give my heart
To anyone except you on the Earth
The Supreme Judge decided way things art...
Tis' heaven's will that I am yours.
And all my life's been a tribute, a guarantee,
That we're to meet and this we couldn't deny;
I know you're sent by Lord to me,
You are my guardian till time for me to die...
You came to me in dreams deep in the night,
I liked you though you were yet unseen,
You made me pine with stare your so clean,
Your voice sounded inside
So long before...no! that was not a dream!
When you came in, I recognized you right away
I froze, I bursted into flame,
I said t' myself: now that is him!
Isn't it true? I've heard your voice for sure:
Weren't you the one who spoke to me in quiet
When I was helping poor
Or with a prayer tried to cure
My soul's anguish, my heart's riot?
And now, this moment in addition
Is it not you, sweet apparition,
Who's in translucent dark flashed by
And nestled calmly at the head of bed,
Who has with love and consolation said
These words of hope to ears my?
Are you my guardian angel or you are
A treacherous seducer who is me to char:
Please do resolve my doubts.
Maybe all this is pure idle talk in vain,
A verdant soul's illusions with no grounds
And something else for me is foreordain'd...
But, anyway, so let it be! My fate
From now on I to you entrust,
In front of you I into tears bust,
For your protection now I supplicate...
Imagine this: I'm here all alone,
There's no one me to understand
My mind is so much enervated and
In silence t' perish I am thrown.
I wait for you: hopes that my heart has borne
With single glance come and revive
Or cut my heavy dreams with knife
Of well-deserved reproach and scorn.
I close. Afraid to read it through...
I freeze in shame and fright...
And be my guarantee your honor t' which I do
Entrust so bravely myself this night...

XXXII.
Tat'yana to vzdohnet, to ohnet;
Pis'mo drozhit v ee ruke;
Oblatka rozovaya sohnet
Na vospalennom yazyke.
K plechu golovushkoj sklonilas'.
Sorochka legkaya spustilas'
S ee prelestnogo plecha...
No vot uzh lunnogo lucha
Siyan'e gasnet. Tam dolina
Skvoz' par yasneet. Tam potok
Zaserebrilsya; tam rozhok
Pastushij budit selyanina.
Vot utro: vstali vse davno,
Moej Tat'yane vse ravno.

XXXII
Tatyana moans and Tatyana sighs;
Is shaking letter in her hand;
On fevered tongue her lies and dries
A rosy sealing band.
Her head to shoulder has stooped down
Has fallen her so light night-gown
Off charming shoulder... And has died away
Already shine of the Moon's ray.
And over there valley lightens bright
Through mist. And there has silvered stream.
Down there the village folk wakes up from dream
To shepherd's pipe proclaiming end of night.
It's morning: everyone has risen long ago,
But my Tatyana doesn't care though.

XXXIII.
Ona zari ne zamechaet,
Sidit s poniksheyu glavoj
I na pis'mo ne napiraet
Svoej pechati vyreznoj.
No, dver' tihon'ko otpiraya,
Uzh ej Filip'evna sedaya
Prinosit na podnose chaj.
"Pora, ditya moe, vstavaj:
Da ty, krasavica, gotova!
O ptashka rannyaya moya!
Vechor uzh kak boyalas' ya!
Da, slava bogu, ty zdorova!
Toski nochnoj i sledu net,
Lico tvoe kak makov cvet".

XXXIII
She hasn't noticed dawn to ramp,
She's sitting and her head's held low,
She hasn't yet decided t' stamp
The letter with engraved her seal though.
But quietly proceeding through the doorway
Grey-headed old Phillipyevna on tray
Brings to Tatyana her tea-cup:
Wake up, my child, it's time t' get up:
You're up and ready, what a day!
Oh, early birdie! But last night
I was afraid if you're all-right!
But, Lord all mighty, you're OK!
Your nightly yearn has gone without a trace
As poppy-flower fresh and nice's your face."

XXXIV.
-- Ah! nyanya, sdelaj odolzhen'e. --
"Izvol', rodnaya, prikazhi". --
Ne dumaj... pravo... podozren'e...
No vidish'... ah! ne otkazhi. --
"Moj drug, vot bog tebe poruka". --
Itak, poshli tihon'ko vnuka
S zapiskoj etoj k O... k tomu...
K sosedu... da velet' emu --
CHtob on ne govoril ni slova,
CHtob on ne nazyval menya... --
"Komu zhe, milaya moya?
YA nynche stala bestolkova.
Krugom sosedej mnogo est';
Kuda mne ih i perechest'".

XXXIV
- Oh nanny! May I ask you t'undertake a mission?
"Go on, sweetheart, just tell what I can do"-
You shouldn't think...indeed... suspicion...
But see... oh, do not turn me down, not you. -
"My friend, I swear by the heavens high."-
So would you send your grandson on the sly
With this short letter to O... you know the one,
The neighbor. Tell him he to none
Would say a word however is inquired,
Would name me not...-
"Sweetheart, to whom, to what?
I have become slow-witted now and tired.
There're tons of neighbors all around; I am
Unable to remember all of them

XXXV.
- Kak nedogadliva ty, nyanya! --
"Serdechnyj drug, uzh ya stara,
Stara: tupeet razum, Tanya;
A to, byvalo, ya vostra,
Byvalo, slovo barskoj voli..." --
Ah, nyanya, nyanya! do togo li?
CHto nuzhdy mne v tvoem ume?
Ty vidish', delo o pis'me
K Oneginu. -- "Nu, delo, delo,
Ne gnevajsya, dusha moya,
Ty znaesh', neponyatna ya...
Da chto zh ty snova poblednela?" --
Tak, nyanya, pravo nichego.
Poshli zhe vnuka svoego. --

XXXV
-- But, nanny, nanny, can't you guess? --
"But, dear friend, I'm growing old,
I'm old: my mind is in regress,
When I was sharp I got what told
Me lord or lady right away"
-- Oh, nanny, why do you this say?
I have no need your mind be better
You see, the matter's ‘bout this letter
To Onegin -- "Now I see, the mail.
Do not be angry, sweetie-pie,
You know, how muddle-headed I...
But why do you again turn pale?"--
Oh, nothing, nanny, nothing's about it.
Now will you send your male grandkid with it?

XXXVI.
No den' protek, i net otveta.
Drugoj nastal: vse net, kak net.
Bledna kak ten', s utra odeta,
Tat'yana zhdet: kogda zh otvet?
Priehal Ol'gin obozhatel'.
"Skazhite: gde zhe vash priyatel'?"
Emu vopros hozyajki byl.
"On chto-to nas sovsem zabyl".
Tat'yana, vspyhnuv, zadrozhala. --
Segodnya byt' on obeshchal,
Starushke Lenskoj otvechal:
Da, vidno, pochta zaderzhala. --
Tat'yana potupila vzor,
Kak budto slysha zloj ukor.

XXXVI
A day passed by, and there was no response.
Another day: still there is none.
Tatiana's waiting, feigning nonchalance,
Though pale as shade: when will it come?
Then Olga's idolater arrived her to attend.
"Please tell us where is now your friend?" --
Asked him landlady to his face.
"It seems he has forgotten our place".
Tatyana, reddened, shook and shivered. --
He promised me to come to you today, -
But post must have delayed him on the way. --
Such answer Lensky to old lady then delivered -- Tatyana dropped her eyes and faded
As if she was maliciously upbraided

XXXVII.
Smerkalos'; na stole blistaya
SHipel vechernij samovar.
Kitajskij chajnik nagrevaya;
Pod nim klubilsya legkij par.
Razlityj Ol'ginoj rukoyu,
Po chashkam temnoyu strueyu
Uzhe dushistyj chaj bezhal,
I slivki mal'chik podaval;
Tat'yana pred oknom stoyala,
Na stekla hladnye dysha,
Zadumavshis', moya dusha,
Prelestnym pal'chikom pisala
Na otumanennom stekle
Zavetnyj venzel' O da E.

XXXVII
Was growing dark. The evening samovar on table
Was hissing, warming the Chinese teapot.
And over it were curling rings unstable
Of light pellucid stream that hot.
And being poured by Olga's hand
To cups as if it was a dark pearl strand
The fragrant tea was flowing,
And cream the boy was serving;
Tatyana then in front of window stood
On the cool glass she breathed,
And, as in thoughts she lost and sheathed,
With her fine finger write she would
On misted glass the ‘E' and ‘O' --
The letters that she cherished so.

XXXVIII
I mezhdu tem dusha v nej nyla,
I slez byl polon tomnyj vzor.
Vdrug topot!.. krov' ee zastyla.
Vot blizhe! Skachut... i na dvor
Evgenij! "Ah!" -- i legche teni
Tat'yana pryg v drugie seni,
S kryl'ca na dvor, i pryamo v sad,
Letit, letit; vzglyanut' nazad
Ne smeet; migom obezhala
Kurtiny, mostiki, luzhok,
Alleyu k ozeru, lesok,
Kusty siren perelomala,
Po cvetnikam letya k ruch'yu,
I zadyhayas' na skam'yu

XXXVIII
And all this time her soul was aching,
Were full of tears her eyes and heart.
Hoof thud! -- her heart was breaking,
It's coming up! -- right to the yard!
Evgeniy! "Ah!" -- as shadow swift all of a sudden,
Tatyana jumps to other hall and runs to garden
Through the porch. She flies, flies,
Not daring to look back or to disguise.
In just a moment dashed across
The flower beds, the bridges and the lawn,
Took alley to the lake, to copse she then was gone
Broke through the lilac with tremendous force,
And, smashing flowers, flew to creek
Then, gasping, onto bench she sneaked.

XXXIX
Upala...
"Zdes' on! Zdes' Evgenij!
O bozhe! chto podumal on!"
V nej serdce, polnoe muchenij,
Hranit nadezhdy temnyj son;
Ona drozhit i zharom pyshet,
I zhdet: nejdet li? No ne slyshit.
V sadu sluzhanki, na gryadah,
Sbirali yagody v kustah
I horom po nakazu peli
(Nakaz, osnovannyj na tom,
CHtob barskoj yagody tajkom
Usta lukavye ne eli,
I pen'em byli zanyaty:
Zateya sel'skoj ostroty!).

XXXIX
Fell down...
"He's here! Here is Eugeniy!
Oh, Lord Almighty, what he could've thought!"
Her heart, of tortures straining,
Preserves dark dream of hope not yet distraught;
She's shivering, and burning in a stir,
And waiting: is he coming? Nothing can she hear.
As maids in garden berries then collected,
In doing that they were directed
To sing in chorus out-loud
(The order based on an assumption
That silent lips begin consumption
Their masters' berries non-allowed,
Unless these lips are forced to sing:
Idea rustically keen!)

Pesnya devushek

Devicy, krasavicy,
Dushen'ki, podruzhen'ki,
Razygrajtes', devicy,
Razgulyajtes', milye!
Zatyanite pesenku,
Pesenku zavetnuyu,
Zamanite molodca
K horovodu nashemu.
Kak zamanim molodca,
Kak zavidim izdali,
Razbezhimtes', milye,
Zakidaem vishen'em,
Vishen'em, malinoyu,
Krasnoyu smorodinoj.
Ne hodi podslushivat'
Pesenki zavetnye,
Ne hodi podsmatrivat'
Igry nashi devich'i.

The Song of the Girls

Girls, you, girls ‘n' beauties,
Sweetie-hearts ‘n' friends,
Get to play, you, girls so dear,
And get going, girls so nice!
And begin to sing a ditty
Secret ditty of the girls,
And entice a fellow
For our round dance.
When the fellow is attracted,
Seen from far away,
We should run away, sweet-hearts,
Throwing at him cherries
Cherries and raspberries,
And as well red currents
Do not come eavesdropping
On our secret ditties,
Do not come to spy on
Our girlish games.

XL
Oni poyut, i s nebrezhen'em
Vnimaya zvonkij golos ih,
ZHdala Tat'yana s neterpen'em,
CHtob trepet serdca v nej zatih,
CHtoby proshlo lanit pylan'e.
No v persyah to zhe trepetan'e,
I ne prohodit zhar lanit,
No yarche, yarche lish' gorit...
Tak bednyj motylek i bleshchet
I b'etsya raduzhnym krylom,
Plenennyj shkol'nym shalunom
Tak zajchik v ozime trepeshchet,
Uvidya vdrug izdaleka
V kusty pripadshego strelka.

XL
And as they sang, Tatyana heeded
Their voice resonant with a slight,
The only thing impatiently she needed
Is her heart's trembling to subside,
To stifle fire of her lips,
And thrill in bosom and in hips,
Flame of her lips fades not although
Instead, it grows and raises over all...
Likewise a poor butterfly flops
With rainbow-colored wing when caught
By playful kid not many years old,
Likewise a hare palpitates in winter crops
When sees from pretty far away
A gunman hiding in the hay.

XLI
No nakonec ona vzdohnula
I vstala so skam'i svoej;
Poshla, no tol'ko povernula
V alleyu, pryamo pered nej,
Blistaya vzorami, Evgenij
Stoit podobno groznoj teni,
I, kak ognem obozhzhena,
Ostanovilasya ona.
No sledstviya nezhdannoj vstrechi
Segodnya, milye druz'ya,
Pereskazat' ne v silah ya;
Mne dolzhno posle dolgoj rechi
I pogulyat' i otdohnut':
Dokonchu posle kak-nibud'.

XLI
And finally she sighed
Stood up from bench and paced,
Then turned to alley, there -- right
In front of her -- she faced
Eugeniy, he was fire-eyed,
He stood like shadow spreading fright.
She stopped as if she was
Scorched from inside, and then she froze.
Describing aftermath, my friends,
To this encounter at alley
I just cannot go on today:
For this I have no strength.
I've got to take a break, to stroll:
I shall continue sometime after all.

Last-modified: Thu, 30 Aug 2001 09:35:47 GMT
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