l 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
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", , , ".
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, et cetera?..
". - .- "".
-- .- " ?" -- .
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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
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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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

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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
: ?"
-- ,
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.-
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-- ? - " ,
, , .
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-- :
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V
Now tell which of the two's Tatyana?"
-- The one who was so taciturn,
And like Svtlana, 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



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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

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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
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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

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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

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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
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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
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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
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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

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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
...
...-
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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
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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

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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
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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

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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
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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
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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
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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
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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



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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
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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
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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
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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'

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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.
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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.
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XXXIII
She