Eugene Onegin. My uncle has the most honest rules
Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin
Eugene Onegin
Novel in verse
Pe€tri de vanite€ il avait encore plus de cette espe`ce d'orgueil qui fait avouer avec la me^me indiffe€rence les bonnes comme les mauvaises actions, suite d'un sentiment de supe€riorite€, peut-e ^tre imagine.
Tire€ d'une lettre particulie`reNot thinking of amusing the proud world,
Loving the attention of friendship,
I'd like to introduce you
The pledge is more worthy than you,
More worthy than a beautiful soul,
Saint of a dream come true,
Poetry alive and clear,
High thoughts and simplicity;
But so be it - with a biased hand
Accept the collection of motley heads,
Half funny, half sad,
Common people, ideal,
The careless fruit of my amusements,
Insomnia, light inspirations,
Immature and withered years,
Crazy cold observations
And hearts of sorrowful notes.
Chapter first
And he’s in a hurry to live, and he’s in a hurry to feel.
Prince Vyazemsky“My uncle has the most honest rules,
When I seriously fell ill,
He forced himself to respect
And I couldn't think of anything better.
His example to others is science;
But, my God, what a bore
To sit with the patient day and night,
Without leaving a single step!
What low deceit
To amuse the half-dead,
Adjust his pillows
It's sad to bring medicine,
Sigh and think to yourself:
When will the devil take you!”
So thought the young rake,
Flying in the dust on postage,
By the Almighty will of Zeus
Heir to all his relatives. -
Friends of Lyudmila and Ruslan!
With the hero of my novel
Without preamble, right now
Let me introduce you:
Onegin, my good friend,
Born on the banks of the Neva,
Where might you have been born?
Or shone, my reader;
I once walked there too:
But the north is bad for me.
Having served excellently and nobly,
His father lived in debt
Gave three balls annually
And finally squandered it.
Eugene's fate kept:
First Madame I followed him
After Monsieur replaced her;
The child was harsh, but sweet.
Monsieur l'Abbe€, poor Frenchman
So that the child does not get tired,
I taught him everything jokingly,
I didn’t bother you with strict morals,
Lightly scolded for pranks
And he took me for a walk in the Summer Garden.
When will the rebellious youth
The time has come for Evgeniy
It's time for hope and tender sadness,
Monsieur kicked out of the yard.
Here is my Onegin free;
Haircut in the latest fashion;
How dandy London dressed -
And finally saw the light.
He's completely French
He could express himself and wrote;
I danced the mazurka easily
And he bowed casually;
What do you want more? The light has decided
That he is smart and very nice.
We all learned a little bit
Something and somehow
So upbringing, thank God,
It's no wonder for us to shine.
Onegin was, according to many
(decisive and strict judges),
A small scientist, but a pedant.
He had a lucky talent
No coercion in conversation
Touch everything lightly
With the learned air of a connoisseur
Remain silent in an important dispute
And make the ladies smile
Fire of unexpected epigrams.
Latin is now out of fashion:
So, if I tell you the truth,
He knew quite a bit of Latin,
To understand the epigraphs,
Talk about Juvenal,
At the end of the letter put vale,
Yes, I remembered, although not without sin,
Two verses from the Aeneid.
He had no desire to rummage
In chronological dust
History of the earth;
But the jokes of days gone by
From Romulus to the present day,
He kept it in his memory.
Having no high passion
No mercy for the sounds of life,
He could not iambic from trochee,
No matter how hard we fought, we could tell the difference.
Scolded Homer, Theocritus;
But I read Adam Smith
And there was a deep economy,
That is, he knew how to judge
How does the state get rich?
And how does he live, and why?
He doesn't need gold
When simple product It has.
His father couldn't understand him
And he gave the lands as collateral.
Everything that Evgeniy still knew,
Tell me about your lack of time;
But what was his true genius?
What he knew more firmly than all sciences,
What happened to him from childhood
And labor, and torment, and joy,
What took the whole day
His melancholy laziness, -
There was a science of tender passion,
Which Nazon sang,
Why did he end up a sufferer?
Its age is brilliant and rebellious
In Moldova, in the wilderness of the steppes,
Far away from Italy.
……………………………………
……………………………………
……………………………………
How early could he be a hypocrite?
To harbor hope, to be jealous,
To dissuade, to make believe,
Seem gloomy, languish,
Be proud and obedient
Attentive or indifferent!
How languidly silent he was,
How fieryly eloquent
How careless in heartfelt letters!
Breathing alone, loving alone,
How he knew how to forget himself!
How quick and gentle his gaze was,
Shy and impudent, and sometimes
Shined with an obedient tear!
How he knew how to seem new,
Jokingly amaze innocence,
To frighten with despair,
To amuse with pleasant flattery,
Catch a moment of tenderness,
Innocent years of prejudice
Win with intelligence and passion,
Expect involuntary affection
Beg and demand recognition
Listen to the first sound of the heart,
Pursue love and suddenly
Achieve a secret date...
And then she's alone
Give lessons in silence!
How early could he have disturbed
Hearts of coquettes!
When did you want to destroy
He has his rivals,
How he sarcastically slandered!
What networks I prepared for them!
But you, blessed men,
You stayed with him as friends:
The wicked husband caressed him,
Foblas is a long-time student,
And the distrustful old man
And the majestic cuckold,
Always happy with yourself
With his lunch and his wife.
……………………………………
……………………………………
……………………………………
Sometimes he was still in bed:
They bring notes to him.
What? Invitations? Indeed,
Three houses for the evening call:
There will be a ball, there will be a children's party.
Where will my prankster ride?
Who will he start with? Doesn't matter:
It’s no wonder it’s easy to keep up with everything.
While in morning dress,
Putting on wide bolivar,
Onegin goes to the boulevard,
And there he walks in the open space,
While the watchful Breget
Dinner won't ring his bell.
From school I remember the first stanza from “Eugene Onegin” by A.S. Pushkin.
The novel is written extremely simply, with impeccable rhyme and classic iambic tetrameter. Moreover, each stanza of this novel is a sonnet. You, of course, know that the stanza in which this work of Pushkin is written is called “Onegin”. But the first stanza seemed so classical to me and, as it were, applicable to the presentation of almost any topic, that I tried to write a poem using the rhyme of this stanza, that is, the last words of each line, maintaining the same rhythm.
To remind the reader, I first quote the indicated stanza by Pushkin, and then my poem.
My uncle has the most honest rules,
When I seriously fell ill,
He forced himself to respect
And I couldn't think of anything better.
His example to others is science,
But, my God, what a bore
Sitting with the patient day and night
Without leaving a single step.
What low deceit
To amuse the half-dead,
Adjust his pillows
It's sad to bring medicine,
Sigh and think to yourself,
When will the devil take you?
Love has no special rules
You just took it and got sick.
Suddenly, someone's gaze made me hurt,
Or a kiss could force you.
Love is a complex science
And this is joy, not boredom,
Tormenting day and night,
Without leaving your heart.
Love is capable of deceit
The game can amuse
And correct the outcome of wars,
Or your melancholy may be a cure.
Don’t waste yourself on this search,
She will find you herself.
07 April 2010
Once upon a time, I found an entertaining game on the Internet - collective writing of a sonnet. Very funny. And, after writing the above poem, the idea occurred to me to offer you, dear readers, a poetic game - to write sonnets using the last words of the lines of the first stanza of “Eugene Onegin”
Good exercise for the brain.
But I was tormented by doubts: is it possible to do this? That is, there are frames of specific words that limit the topic.
I again wrote down the last words in the column and, after re-reading them, for some reason I remembered “At the Last Line” by V. Pikul. Probably because of the words: forced, deceit, medicine. I thought a little and wrote this:
Rasputin Grishka lived without rules,
Suffered from hypnosis since childhood
And he forced me to go to bed with him
Half Peter and could have done more.
I didn't like this science
To husbands whose wives were tormented by boredom.
They decided one night
Let the spirit go away from the old man.
After all, the scoundrel invented deceit
To amuse yourself with debauchery:
To improve the health of the ladies,
Giving carnal medicine.
Know that if you let yourself go into fornication,
Then the poison in Madeira is waiting for you.
April 14, 2010
But even after that I had doubts - a feeling of being impossible to describe any topic. And with a laugh, I asked myself: Here, for example, is how to put a simple children’s rhyme “My geese, my geese.” I wrote out the last words again. It turned out that verbs belong to masculine nouns. Well, well, to talk about grandma, I introduced a new character - grandfather. And this is what happened:
Reading the list of village rules,
Grandfather fell ill with poultry farming.
He forced grandma to buy it
Two geese. But he could do it himself.
Herding geese is a science
He was tormented as if by boredom
And, having made the night darker,
The geese swam away in a puddle.
The grandmother is moaning - this is deceit,
The geese won't amuse
And improve your mood,
After all, their cackling is medicine for the soul.
Remember the moral - please yourself
Only what makes you happy.
April 21, 2010
Having put aside the thought of posting these poems, I somehow thought about our fleeting life, about the fact that in the quest to earn money, people often lose their souls and decided to write a poem, but, remembering my idea, without a shadow of a doubt, I expressed my thoughts with the same rhyme. And this is what happened:
One of the rules dictates life:
Are you healthy or sick?
The pragmatic age forced everyone
Run so that everyone can survive.
Science is in a hurry to develop
And, having forgotten what boredom means,
Pushing business day and night
Away from old technologies.
But there is deceit in this running:
Success will only begin to amuse -
Rigidity will correct you,
This is medicine for Mephistopheles.
He will give you good luck, but for yourself,
He will take the soul out of you.
June 09, 2010
So, I invite everyone to take part in writing poems with Pushkin’s rhyme from the indicated stanza of “Eugene Onegin.” The first condition is any topic; second - strict adherence to Pushkin's rhythm and line length: third - of course, decent eroticism is allowed, but, please, without vulgarity.
For ease of reading, with your consent, I will copy your poems below with a link to your page.
Unregistered readers can also participate. On my first page at this address: there is a line: “send a letter to the author.” Write from your email and I will definitely answer you. And, with your consent, I can also place your verse below, under your name.
The final point of our game is the publication of a book for the anniversary of A.S. Pushkin entitled “My Uncle of the Most Honest Rules.” This can be done within the framework of almanacs published by the site owners, or separately. I can take over the organization.
The minimum is to collect fifty poems, one per page. The result will be a collection of 60 pages.
With respect to everyone.
Yuri Bashara
P.S. Below I publish the participants of the game:
God wrote us 10 rules,
But if you feel sick,
He forced them all to break,
And I couldn't think of anything better.
Love according to God is only a science.
There is such boredom in His paradise -
Sit under the tree day and night,
Don't take a step away from your neighbor.
Step to the left - see - deceit,
Be fruitful - to amuse Him.
We will correct God
Walking to the left is our medicine,
We write covenants for ourselves,
And - the main thing: I want you.
Love has few rules
But without love you would get sick.
And with the unloved, who would force
To live you? Could you?
Let there be science for the girls:
Oh, my God, what boredom
Spend day and night with him,
After all, children, duty, will you go away?
Isn't this deceit?
To amuse him at night,
Adjust pillows at night,
And before that, take medicine?
Isn't it a sin to forget yourself?
Oh, this is terrible for you...
But suddenly I suddenly fell ill,
He himself forced the apprentices
Put it in a jug! Could
There was boredom in the jug,
Dark as a northern night
And I wouldn’t mind getting out,
But here's a cruel trick:
No one can amuse
And correct his posture.
I would like to release myself from the darkness,
And Jean asks you about it.
Life has one rule:
Anyone, at least once, fell ill
With a feeling of love and forced
Himself to go to any lengths that I could.
And if the Testament is not science for you,
You are betrayed by your boredom
Can push, day and night.
Both God and the rules are gone.
That’s not love, that’s deceit,
Here the devil will amuse
Correct God's laws
Giving false medicine.
All these are stories for yourself,
God will punish you for everything.
Laziness will kill a quitter outside the rules,
Since he was sick of her,
How Rye forced her to eat it,
I could have failed at work faster than I could.
And here's what science tells us:
Not only failures, but boredom
Punishes us day and night -
Others' luck is ruined.
Laziness is the daughter of wealth - that’s deceit,
Mother of poverty, to amuse
Your wallet will begin to improve,
Giving medicine to idleness.
You can only console yourself with idleness,
Laziness is undoubtedly waiting for you.
Reviews
Amused and infected:
...
Once upon a time, Jin ruled the country,
But suddenly I suddenly fell ill,
He himself forced the apprentices
Put it in a jug! Could
Only the smartest. Science to everyone
There was boredom in the jug,
Dark as a northern night
And I wouldn’t mind getting out,
But here's a cruel trick:
No one can amuse
And correct his posture.
And to warm up there is medicine.
I would like to release myself from the darkness,
And Jean asks you about it.
Hello dears.
I propose to continue reading the immortal and magnificent work of Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin “Eugene Onegin”. We started the first part here:
Having served excellently and nobly,
His father lived in debt
Gave three balls annually
And finally squandered it.
Eugene's fate kept:
At first Madame followed him,
Then Monsieur replaced her.
The child was harsh, but sweet.
Monsieur l'Abbé, poor Frenchman,
So that the child does not get tired,
I taught him everything jokingly,
I didn’t bother you with strict morals,
Lightly scolded for pranks
And he took me for a walk in the Summer Garden.
The fact that first Madame and then Monsieur Abbot went to Eugene is the system of standard “noble” education of those years. French was the main, sometimes the first, language of the Russian aristocracy. For example, the famous Decembrist Mikhail Bestuzhev-Ryumin practically did not know Russian, and studied it before his death. Such are the things :-) It is clear that with such an education, it is important that the first nannies and teachers are native speakers of French. Everything is clear with Madame, but that’s why the second teacher was the Abbot. Initially, in my youth, I thought it was his last name.
M. Bestuzhev-Ryumin
But no - there is a hint here of his clerical, that is, church past. I think that he was forced to flee revolutionary France, where the ministers of the Church suffered greatly, and labored in Russia as a teacher. And as practice shows, he was not a bad teacher :-) By the way, the word wretched does not carry any negative meaning. Monsieur Abbot was simply poor, and Pushkin uses this term here in this context. He fed from the table of his student, and his father paid him a salary, albeit small.
By the way, the fact that they walked in the Summer Garden, which by that time had received its current boundaries, suggests that Evgeniy lived nearby.
Lattice of the Summer Garden.
Let's continue.
When will the rebellious youth
The time has come for Evgeniy
It's time for hope and tender sadness,
Monsieur was driven out of the yard.
Here is my Onegin free;
Haircut in the latest fashion,
How the dandy Londoner is dressed -
And finally saw the light.
He's completely French
He could express himself and wrote;
I danced the mazurka easily
And he bowed casually;
What do you want more? The light has decided
That he is smart and very nice.
Real dandies :-)
As I said above, Monsieur Abbot turned out to be a good teacher and taught Eugene well. This can be seen in this stanza and in the following ones. The term dandy went down among the people, as they say, and has since come to mean a man who emphasizes the aesthetics of appearance and behavior, as well as sophistication of speech and courtly behavior. This is a separate topic for conversation, and we will be happy to talk about it next time. The term itself comes from the Scottish verb “dander” (to walk) and denoted dandies and rich people. The first real dandy, so to speak, “style icon,” was George Brian Brummel, a friend and clothing adviser to the future King George IV.
D.B. Brummel
Mazurka is originally a Polish national fast dance, which received its name in honor of the Masurians or Mazovians - inhabitants of Mazovia (Masuria), part of central Poland. In the years described in the novel, the mazurka became an extremely popular dance at balls, and being able to dance it was a sign of “advancedness.” A little later, the mazurka will be taken to a new level by the great F. Chopin.
We all learned a little bit
Something and somehow
So upbringing, thank God,
It's no wonder for us to shine.
Onegin was, in the opinion of many
(decisive and strict judges)
A small scientist, but a pedant:
He had a lucky talent
No coercion in conversation
Touch everything lightly
With the learned air of a connoisseur
Remain silent in an important dispute
And make the ladies smile
Fire of unexpected epigrams.
Latin is now out of fashion:
So, if I tell you the truth,
He knew quite a bit of Latin,
To understand the epigraphs,
Talk about Juvenal,
At the end of the letter put vale,
Yes, I remembered, although not without sin,
Two verses from the Aeneid.
He had no desire to rummage
In chronological dust
History of the earth:
But jokes of days gone by
From Romulus to the present day
He kept it in his memory.
Learn Latin, really...:-)))
Knowing historical anecdotes is great. Yuri Vladimirovich Nikulin and Roman Trakhtenberg would approve of this :-) Putting vale at the end of the letter is not only beautiful, but also correct. After all, translated into completely original Russian, this could be interpreted as “Be healthy, boyar” :-) And if you, my dear readers, at the end of your written monologue, in the course of clarifying the most important question of existence, “who is wrong on the Internet,” pose not only dixi, but also vale - it will be beautiful :-)
It’s not very possible to talk about Juvenal these days, because it’s not always with anyone, but in vain. Decimus Junius Juvenal is a Roman satirical poet, contemporary of the emperors Vespasian and Trajan. In some places it gets annoying :-) Although one expression associated with this Roman is certainly familiar to any of you. This is “A healthy mind in a healthy body.” But we talked about it in more detail here:
(if you haven’t read it, I’ll take the liberty of recommending it)
We studied Virgil's Aeneid at the University. I don’t remember about the school, but in theory, it seemed like they could study it. This epic tells about the resettlement of the Trojan prince Aeneas to the Apennines and the founding of the city of Alba Longa, which later became the center of the Latin Union. What we also talked a little about here:
This is exactly the engraving of Virgil that Eugene could have seen :-)
I confess to you honestly, unlike Eugene, I don’t know a single verse from the Aeneid by heart. It is interesting that the Aeneid became a role model, and produced a bunch of alterations and variations. Including the rather funny “Aeneid” by Ivan Kotlyarevsky, if I’m not mistaken, almost the first work in the Ukrainian language.
To be continued...
Have a nice time of day.
Novel in verse by A. S. Pushkin (volume 2)
Publishing house "Fiction", Moscow 1986
Short version (Zoya Skobtsova)
Preface (Zoya Skobtsova) Registration No. 117032000185
"Addressing you, my reader,
I beg your pardon:
What the brilliant poet wrote,
The owner of this passage,
It's impossible to rate here!
Just briefly, just the contents,
I undertake to convey for you;
Perhaps someone to shine,
Or maybe just out of desire,
He'll want to remember it by heart!"
Volsk 04/02/2016
CHAPTER FIRST
1.1.
page 187
My uncle has the most honest rules,
When I seriously fell ill,
He forced himself to respect
And I couldn't think of anything better.
His example to others is science;
But, my God, what boredom
To sit with the patient day and night,
- 3 -
Without leaving a single step!
What low deceit
To amuse the half-dead,
Adjust his pillows
It's sad to bring medicine,
Sigh and think to yourself
When will the devil take you?
So thought the young rake,
Flying in the dust on postage,
By the Almighty will of Zeus
Heir to all his relatives.
Having served excellently - nobly,
His father lived in debt
Gave three balls annually
And finally squandered it.
1.2.
p.188
Eugene's fate kept:
At first Madame followed him,
Then the Monter replaced her.
The child was harsh, but sweet.
Monter Gabbe, poor Frenchman,
So that the child does not get tired,
I taught him everything jokingly,
I didn’t bother you with strict morals,
Lightly scolded for pranks
And he took me for a walk in the summer garden.
- 4 -
When will the rebellious youth
The time has come for Evgeniy
It's time for hope and tender sadness,
The fitter was driven out of the yard.
Here is my Onegin in freedom:
Haircut in the latest fashion,
How Dandy London is dressed -
And finally saw the light.
He's completely French
He could express himself and wrote;
I danced the mazurka easily
And he bowed casually;
What more? The light has decided
That he is smart and very nice.
We all learned a little bit
Something and somehow,
So upbringing, thank God,
It's no wonder for us to shine.
Onegin was, according to many,
(decisive and strict judges),
A small scientist, but a pedant,
He had a lucky talent
No coercion in conversation
Touch everything lightly
With the learned air of an expert
Remain silent in an important dispute
And make the ladies smile
Fire of unexpected zpigrams.
1.3.
Page 189
Everything that Evgeniy still knew
Tell me about your lack of time;
Page 191
Sometimes he was still in bed:
They bring him notes.
What? Invitations? Indeed,
Three houses for the evening call:
There will be a ball, there will be a children's party,
Where will my prankster ride?
Who will he start with? Doesn't matter:
It’s no wonder it’s easy to keep up with everything.
Page 199
What about my Onegin? Half asleep
He goes to bed from the ball.
And St. Petersburg is restless
Already awakened by the drum.
Page 200
But, tired of the noise of the ball
And the morning turns to midnight,
Sleeps peacefully in the blessed shade
Fun and luxury child.
Page 205
Suddenly he actually received
That uncle is dying in bed
- 6 -
And I would be glad to say goodbye to him.
After reading the sad message,
Onegin goes on a date right away
Swiftly galloped through the mail
And I already yawned in advance,
Getting ready, for the sake of money,
For sighs, boredom and deception
(And that’s how I started my novel;)
But, having arrived at my uncle’s village,
I found it already on the table,
As a tribute to the ready land.
1.4
Here is our Onegin - a villager,
Factories, waters, forests, lands
The owner is full, and until now,
An enemy of order and a spendthrift,
And I’m very glad that the old path
Changed it to something.
CHAPTER TWO
2.1
Page 208
The village where Evgeniy was bored,
There was a lovely walk;
There's a friend of innocent pleasures
I could bless the sky
Alone among his possessions.
- 7 -
Page 210
To my village at the same time
The new landowner galloped up
And equally strict analysis
The neighborhood provided a reason.
Named Vladimir Lensky,
Handsome man, in full bloom,
Kant's admirer and poet.
He's from foggy Germany
He brought the fruits of learning:
Freedom-loving dreams
The spirit is ardent and rather strange,
Always an enthusiastic speech
And shoulder-length black curls.
Page 212
Rich and handsome Lensky
Everywhere he was accepted as a groom;
This is the village custom.
Page 213
But Lensky, without having, of course,
There is no desire to marry,
With Onegin I wished cordially
Let's make the acquaintance shorter.
They got along. Wave and stone
Poetry and prose, ice and fire
Not so different from each other.
They were boring to each other;
- 8 -
Then I liked it; Then
We came together every day on horseback
And soon they became inseparable.
2.2.
Page 216
A little boy, captivated by Olga,
Having not yet known heartache,
He was a constant witness
Her infantile fun.
She gave the poet
Young delights first dream
And the thought of her inspired
Her tarsus's first moan.
Page 217
Her sister's name was Tatyana,
Not your sister's beauty,
Nor the freshness of her ruddy
She wouldn't attract anyone's attention.
Dick, sad, silent,
Like a forest deer is timid,
She is in her own family
The girl seemed like a stranger.
CHAPTER THREE
3.1.
Page 225
"Tell me, which one is Tatyana?"
- 9 -
Yes, the one who is sad
And silent, like Svetlana,
She came in and sat by the window. -
“Are you really in love with the smaller one?”
- And what? - "I would choose another,
If only I were like you, a poet.
Page 228
Olga has no life in her features.
Vladimir answered dryly
And then he was silent the whole way.
3.2.
Meanwhile, Onegin's phenomenon
The Larins produced
Everyone is very impressed
And all the neighbors were entertained.
Guess after guess went on.
Everyone began to interpret furtively,
It is not without sin to joke and judge,
Tatiana predicts a groom.
Tatyana listened with annoyance
Such gossip; but secretly
With inexplicable joy
I couldn’t help but think about it;
And a thought sank into my heart;
The time has come, she fell in love.
Long-time heartache
Her young breasts were tight;
The soul was waiting... for someone
And she waited... The eyes opened,
She said: it's him!
3.3.
Page 227
Now with what attention she
Reading a sweet novel
What a charm she has
Drinks seductive deception!
Page 229
Tatiana, dear Tatiana!
With you now I shed tears;
You are in the hands of a gloomy tyrant
I've already given up my fate.
Page 230
The longing for love drives Tatiana
And she goes to the garden to be sad,
And suddenly his eyes droop, motionless,
And she’s too lazy to move on.
Night will come; the moon goes around
Watch the distant vault of heaven,
Tatyana doesn't sleep in the dark
And quietly says to the nanny:
Page 231
“I’m in love,” she whispered again
She said it to the old lady with bitterness.
- Dear friend, you are unwell. -
"Leave me, I'm in love."
And my heart ran far
Tatiana, looking at the moon...
Page 232
Suddenly a thought appeared in her mind...
"Go ahead, leave me alone.
Give me a pen and paper, nanny,
Yes, move the table; I'll go to bed soon;
I'm sorry." And here she is alone.
Everything is quiet. The moon is shining on her
Leaning on her elbows, Tatyana writes.
And everything is on Onegin’s mind,
And in thoughtless writing
The love of an innocent maiden breathes.
The letter is ready, folded...
Tatiana! Who is it for?
London dressed -
And finally saw the light.
He's completely French
He could express himself and wrote;
He had a lucky talent
No coercion in conversation
Touch everything lightly
With the learned air of a connoisseur
Remain silent in an important dispute
And make the ladies smile
VI.
Latin is now out of fashion:
So, if I tell you the truth,
He knew quite a bit of Latin,
At the end of the letter put vale ,
Yes, I remembered, although not without sin,
No matter how hard we fought, we could tell the difference.
And there was a deep economy,
That is, he knew how to judge
How does the state get rich?
And how does he live, and why?
He doesn't need gold
His father couldn't understand him
VIII.
Everything that Evgeniy still knew,
Tell me about your lack of time;
But what was his true genius?
What he knew more firmly than all sciences,
And labor and torment and joy,
What took the whole day
His melancholy laziness, -
There was a science of tender passion,
Why did he end up a sufferer?
Its age is brilliant and rebellious
In Moldova, in the wilderness of the steppes,
Far away from Italy.
IX.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
X.
How early could he be a hypocrite?
To harbor hope, to be jealous,
To dissuade, to make believe,
Seem gloomy, languish,
Be proud and obedient
Attentive or indifferent!
How languidly silent he was,
How fieryly eloquent
How careless in heartfelt letters!
Breathing alone, loving alone,
How he knew how to forget himself!
How quick and gentle his gaze was,
Shy and impudent, and sometimes
Shined with an obedient tear!
XI.
How he knew how to seem new,
Jokingly amaze innocence,
To frighten with despair,
To amuse with pleasant flattery,
Catch a moment of tenderness,
Innocent years of prejudice
Win with intelligence and passion,
Expect involuntary affection
Beg and demand recognition
Listen to the first sound of the heart,
Pursue love, and suddenly
Achieve a secret date...
And then she's alone
Give lessons in silence!
XII.
How early could he have disturbed
When did you want to destroy
He has his rivals,
How he sarcastically slandered!
What networks I prepared for them!
But you, blessed men,
You stayed with him as friends:
The wicked husband caressed him,
And there he walks in the open space,
Dinner won't ring his bell.
XVI.
It’s already dark: he gets into the sled.
Entered: and there was a cork in the ceiling,
And a golden pineapple.
XVII.
Thirst asks for more glasses
Pour hot fat over cutlets,
But the ringing of the Breguet reaches them,
That a new ballet has begun.
The theater is an evil legislator,
Fickle Adorer
Charming actresses
Honorary Citizen of the Backstage,
Onegin flew to the theater,
Where everyone, breathing freedom,
To flog Phaedra, Cleopatra,
A noisy swarm of their comedies,
Soul filled flight?
Or a sad look will not find
Familiar faces on a boring stage,
And, looking towards the alien light
An indifferent spectator of fun,
I will yawn silently
And remember the past?
XX.
The theater is already full; the boxes shine;
The stalls and the chairs, everything is boiling;
One foot touching the floor,
The other slowly circles,
And suddenly he jumps, and suddenly he flies,
Now the camp will sow, then it will develop,
And with a quick foot he hits the leg.
XXI.
Everything is clapping. Onegin enters
Walks between the chairs along the legs,
XXII.
They haven't stopped stomping yet,
Blow your nose, cough, shush, clap;
Still outside and inside
Lanterns are shining everywhere;
Still frozen, the horses fight,
Bored with my harness,
And the coachmen, around the lights,
They scold the gentlemen and beat them in the palm of their hands:
And Onegin went out;
He's going home to get dressed
XXIII.
Will I portray the truth in the picture?
Secluded office
Where is the mod pupil exemplary
Dressed, undressed and dressed again?
Everything for a plentiful whim
London trades scrupulously
And on the Baltic waves
He brings us lard and timber,
Everything in Paris tastes hungry,
Having chosen a useful trade,
Invents for fun
For luxury, for fashionable bliss, -
Everything decorated the office
Philosopher at eighteen years old.
XXIV.
Amber on the pipes of Constantinople,
Porcelain and bronze on the table,
And, a joy to pampered feelings,
Perfume in cut crystal;
Combs, steel files,
Straight scissors, curved scissors,
And brushes of thirty kinds
For both nails and teeth.
Dare to brush your nails in front of him,
Defender of Liberty and Rights
In this case, he is completely wrong.
XXV.
You can be a smart person
And think about the beauty of nails:
Why argue fruitlessly with the century?
The custom is despot between people.
He's at least three o'clock
He spent in front of the mirrors
When, wearing a man's outfit,
The goddess goes to a masquerade.
XXVI.
In the last taste of the toilet
Taking your curious glance,
I could before the learned light
Here describe his outfit;
Of course it would be brave
Describe my business:
But trousers, tailcoat, vest,
All these words are not in Russian;
And I see, I apologize to you,
Well, my poor syllable is already
I could have been much less colorful
Foreign words
Even though I looked in the old days
XXVII.
Now we have something wrong with the subject:
We better hurry to the ball,
Where to headlong in a Yamsk carriage
My Onegin has already galloped.
In front of the faded houses
Along the sleepy street in rows
Cheerful shed light
And they bring rainbows to the snow:
The magnificent house glitters;
The legs of lovely ladies are flying;
In their captivating footsteps
Fiery eyes fly
And drowned out by the roar of violins
XXIX.
On days of fun and desires
I was crazy about balls:
Or rather, there is no room for confessions
And for delivering a letter.
O you, honorable spouses!
I will offer you my services;
Please notice my speech:
I want to warn you.
You, mamas, are also stricter
Follow your daughters:
Hold your lorgnette straight!
Not that... not that, God forbid!
That's why I'm writing this
That I haven’t sinned for a long time.
XXX.
Alas, for different fun
I've ruined a lot of lives!
But if morals had not suffered,
I would still love balls.
I love mad youth
And tightness, and shine, and joy,
And I’ll give you a thoughtful outfit;
I love their legs; but it's unlikely
You will find in Russia a whole
Three pairs of slender female legs.
Oh! I couldn't forget for a long time
Two legs... Sad, cold,
I remember them all, even in my dreams
They trouble my heart.
XXXI.
When, and where, in what desert,
Madman, will you forget them?
Oh, legs, legs! where are you now?
On the northern, sad snow
You left no traces:
You loved soft carpets
A luxurious touch.
How long have I forgotten for you?
And I thirst for fame and praise,
And the land of the fathers, and imprisonment?
The happiness of youth has disappeared -
Like your light trail in the meadows.
XXXII.
Lovely, dear friends!
However, Terpsichore's leg
Something more charming for me.
She, prophesying with a glance
An invaluable reward
Attracts with conventional beauty
A willful swarm of desires.
Under the long tablecloth of the tables,
In the spring on the grassy meadows,
In winter on a cast iron fireplace,
There is a hall on the mirrored parquet floor,
By the sea on granite rocks.
XXXIII.
I remember the sea before the storm:
Running in a stormy line
Lay down with love at her feet!
How I wished then with the waves
No, never on hot days
Of my boiling youth
I did not wish with such torment
Or fiery roses kiss their cheeks,
The merchant gets up, the peddler goes,
The morning snow crunches under it.
I woke up in the morning with a pleasant sound.
The shutters are open; pipe smoke
Rising like a pillar of blue,
And the baker, a neat German,
In a paper cap, more than once
XXXVI.
But, tired of the noise of the ball,
And the morning turns to midnight,
Sleeps peacefully in the blessed shade
Fun and luxury child.
Wake up after noon, and again
Until the morning his life is ready,
Monotonous and colorful.
And tomorrow is the same as yesterday.
But was my Eugene happy?
Free, in the color of the best years,
Among the brilliant victories,
Among everyday pleasures?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
XLII.
Freaky women of the big world!
He left everyone before you;
And the truth is that in our summer
The higher tone is rather boring;
At least maybe another lady
Interprets Say and Bentham,
But in general their conversation
Unbearable, though innocent, nonsense;
Besides, they are so immaculate,
So majestic, so smart,
So full of piety,
So careful, so precise,
So unapproachable for men,
That the sight gives birth to them spleen .
XLIII.
And you, young beauties,
Which sometimes later
The daring droshky carries away
Along the St. Petersburg pavement,
And my Eugene left you.
Renegade of stormy pleasures,
Onegin locked himself at home,
Yawning, he took up the pen,
I wanted to write, but it’s hard work
He felt sick; Nothing
It did not come from his pen,
And he didn’t end up in the perky workshop
People I don't judge
Because I belong to them.
XLIV.
And again, betrayed by idleness,
Languishing with spiritual emptiness,
He sat down - with a laudable purpose
Appropriating someone else's mind for yourself;
He lined the shelf with a group of books,
I read and read, but to no avail:
There is boredom, there is deception or delirium;
There is no conscience in that, there is no meaning in that;
Everyone is wearing different chains;
And the old thing is outdated,
And the old are delirious of the newness.
Like women, he left books,
And a shelf with their dusty family,
Covered it with mourning taffeta.
XLV.
Having overthrown the burden of the conditions of light,
How does he, having fallen behind the bustle,
I became friends with him at that time.
I liked his features
Involuntary devotion to dreams,
Inimitable strangeness
And a sharp, chilled mind.
I was embittered, he was gloomy;
We both knew the game of passion:
Life tormented both of us;
The heat died down in both hearts;
Anger awaited both
Blind Fortune and People
In the very morning of our days.
XLVI.
He who lived and thought cannot
Do not despise people in your soul;
Whoever felt it is worried
Ghost of irrevocable days:
There is no charm for that.
That serpent of memories
He is gnawing at remorse.
All this often gives
Great pleasure to the conversation.
First Onegin's language
I was embarrassed; but I'm used to it
To his caustic argument,
And to a joke with bile in half,
And the anger of gloomy epigrams.
XLVII.
How often in the summer,
When it's clear and light
Night sky over the Neva
And the waters are cheerful glass
Diana's face does not reflect
Remembering the novels of previous years,
Remembering my old love,
Sensitive, careless again,
Breath of the favorable night
We reveled silently!
Like a green forest from prison
The sleepy convict has been transferred,
So we were carried away by the dream
Young at the start of life.
XLVIII.
With a soul full of regrets,
And leaning on granite,
Evgeniy stood thoughtfully,
How Peet described himself
Everything was quiet; only at night
The sentries called to each other;
Yes, the distant sound of the droshky
With Millonna it suddenly rang out;
Just a boat, waving its oars,
Floated along the dormant river:
And we were captivated in the distance
The horn and the song are daring...
But sweeter, in the midst of nightly fun,
The chant of the Torquat octaves!
XLIX.
L.
Will the hour of my freedom come?
It's time, it's time! - I appeal to her;
I'm wandering over the sea, waiting for the weather,
Manyu sailed the ships.
Under the robe of storms, arguing with the waves,
Along the free crossroads of the sea
When will I start free running?
It's time to leave the boring beach
Elements that are hostile to me,
And among the midday swells,
Under my African sky
Sigh about gloomy Russia,
Where I suffered, where I loved,
Where I buried my heart.
LI.
Onegin was ready with me
See foreign countries;
But soon we were destined
Divorced for a long time.
His father then died.
Gathered in front of Onegin
Lenders are a greedy regiment.
Everyone has their own mind and sense:
Evgeny, hating litigation,
Satisfied with my lot,
He gave them the inheritance
Not seeing a big loss
Or foreknowledge from afar
The death of my old uncle.
LII.
Suddenly he really got
Report from the manager
That uncle is dying in bed
And I would be glad to say goodbye to him.
After reading the sad message,
Evgeniy on a date right away
Swiftly galloped through the mail
And I already yawned in advance,
Getting ready, for the sake of money,
For sighs, boredom and deception
(And thus I began my novel);
But, having arrived at my uncle’s village,
I found it already on the table,
As a tribute to the ready land.
LIII.
He found the yard full of services;
To the dead man from all sides
Enemies and friends gathered,
Hunters before the funeral.
The deceased was buried.
The priests and guests ate, drank,
And then we parted important ways,
It's as if they were busy.
Here is our Onegin, a villager,
Factories, waters, forests, lands
The owner is complete, and until now
An enemy of order and a spendthrift,
And I’m very glad that the old path
Changed it to something.
Liv.
Two days seemed new to him
Lonely fields
The coolness of the gloomy oak tree,
The babbling of a quiet stream;
On the third grove, hill and field
He was no longer interested;
Then they induced sleep;
Then he saw clearly
That in the village the boredom is the same,
Although there are no streets or palaces,
No cards, no balls, no poems.
Handra was waiting for him on guard,
And she ran after him,
Like a shadow or a faithful wife.
LV.
I was born for a peaceful life
For village silence:
In the wilderness the lyrical voice is louder,
More vivid creative dreams.
Dedicating yourself to the leisure of the innocent,
I wander over a deserted lake,
AND far away my law.
I wake up every morning
For sweet bliss and freedom:
I read little, sleep for a long time,
I don’t catch flying glory.
Isn't that how I was in years past?
Spent inactive, in the shadows
My happiest days?
LVI.
Flowers, love, village, idleness,
Fields! I am devoted to you with my soul.
I'm always happy to notice the difference
Between Onegin and me,
To the mocking reader
Or some publisher
Intricate slander
Comparing my features here,
Didn’t repeat it shamelessly later,
Why did I smear my portrait?
Like Byron, the poet's pride,
As if it's impossible for us
Write poems about others
As soon as about yourself.
LVII.
Let me note by the way: all poets -
Love dreamy friends.
Sometimes there were cute things
I dreamed, and my soul
I kept their image secret;
Afterwards the Muse revived them:
So I, careless, sang
And the maiden of the mountains, my ideal,
And captives of the shores of Salgir.
Now from you, my friends,
I often hear the question:
“For whom does your lyre sigh?
To whom, in the crowd of jealous maidens,
Did you dedicate the chant to her?
LVIII.
Whose gaze, stirring inspiration,
Rewarded with touching affection
Your thoughtful singing?
Who did your poem idolize?”
And, guys, no one, by God!
Love's crazy anxiety
I experienced it bleakly.
Blessed is he who combined with her
The fever of rhymes: he doubled it
Poetry is sacred nonsense,
Following Petrarch,
And calmed the torment of the heart,
In the meantime, I also caught fame;
But I, loving, was stupid and dumb.
LIX.
Love has passed, the Muse has appeared,
And the dark mind became clear.
Free, looking for union again
Magic sounds, feelings and thoughts;
I write, and my heart does not grieve,
The pen, having forgotten itself, does not draw,
Near unfinished poems,
No women's legs, no heads;
The extinguished ashes will no longer flare up,
I'm still sad; but there are no more tears,
And soon, soon the storm's trail
My soul will completely calm down:
Then I'll start writing
Poem of songs in twenty-five.
LX.
I was already thinking about the form of the plan,
And I’ll call him a hero;
For now, in my novel
I finished the first chapter;
I reviewed all of this strictly:
There are a lot of contradictions
But I don’t want to fix them.
I will pay my debt to censorship,
And for journalists to eat
I will give the fruits of my labors:
Go to the banks of the Neva,
Newborn creation
And earn me a tribute of glory:
Crooked talk, noise and swearing!
3) - a slacker, a naughty person.
4) Postal - horses that transported mail and passengers; post horses.
5) Zeus - the ancient Greek omnipotent god Zeus is the main god in the pantheon of Greek gods.
6) - poem by A.S. Pushkin, written in 1820.
7) Written in Bessarabia (Note by A.S. Pushkin).
8) “Serving excellently and nobly” is the official characteristic when certifying a civil service official.
9) Madame, teacher, governess.
10) "Monsieur l" Abbe" - Mister Abbot (French); Catholic priest.
11) - a public garden in the Central District, on Palace Embankment, a monument to landscape gardening art of the first third of the 18th century.
12) Dandy, dandy (Note by A.S. Pushkin).
13) "Mazurka" - Polish folk dance.
14) Pedant - According to the definition of the Pushkin Dictionary, “a person who flaunts his knowledge, his scholarship, who judges everything with aplomb.”
15) Epigram - a small satirical poem ridiculing a person or social phenomenon.
16) To parse epigraphs - parse short aphoristic inscriptions on ancient monuments and tombs.
17) Decimus Junius Juvenal (lat. Decimus Iunius Iuvenalis), very often just Juvenal (c. 60 - c. 127) - Roman satirist poet.
18) Vale - Be healthy (lat.).
19) The Aeneid (lat. Aeneis) is an epic work in Latin, authored by Virgil (70 - 19 BC). Written between 29 and 19 BC. e., and is dedicated to the history of Aeneas, the legendary Trojan hero, who moved to Italy with the remnants of his people, who united with the Latins and founded the city of Lavinium, and his son Ascanius (Yul) founded the city of Alba Longa. Passages from the Aeneid were included in the initial course in Latin.
20) - a fictional, short story about a funny, amusing incident.
21) Romulus is one of two brothers, according to legend, who founded Rome. Brothers Romulus and Remus (lat. Romulus et Remus), according to legend, were born in 771 BC. e. Remus died in April 754/753, and Romulus on July 7, 716 BC. e.
22) Iambic is a poetic meter consisting of a two-syllable foot with stress on the second syllable. Example - “My uncle, the most honest rules...” (Pushkin).
23) Trochee - poetic meter with emphasis on odd syllables of the verse. Example - “The wind walks across the sea” (A.S. Pushkin).
24) (8th century BC) - legendary ancient Greek poet.
25) Theocritus (c. 300 - c. 260 BC) - ancient Greek poet of the 3rd century. BC e., famous mainly for its idylls.
26) Adam Smith (1723 - 1790) - Scottish economist and ethical philosopher, one of the founders of economic theory as a science.
27) “Simple product” - The initial product of agriculture, raw materials.
28) “And he gave the lands as collateral” - That is, he pledged the estates to the bank in exchange for receiving money (loans). When pledged, in case of failure to return the money to the bank, the estate was sold at auction
29) From childhood - from a young age.
30) Publius Ovid Naso (lat. Publius Ovidius Naso) (43 BC - 17 or 18 AD) - ancient Roman poet, author of the poems “Metamorphoses” and “Science of Love”, as well as elegies - “ Love Elegies" and "Sorrowful Elegies". According to one version, due to the discrepancy between the ideals of love he promoted and the official policy of Emperor Augustus regarding family and marriage, he was exiled from Rome to the western Black Sea region, where he spent the last years of his life. In 1821, Pushkin dedicated an extensive message in verse to Ovid.
31) Note - Here: inveterate.
32) Faublas (French Faublas) is the hero of the novel “The Love Affairs of the Chevalier de Faublas” (1787-1790) by the French writer J.-B. Louvais de Couvray. Foblas is a handsome and resourceful, elegant and depraved young man, the embodiment of the morals of the 18th century. The name of this skillful seducer of women has become a household name.
33) Bolivar - hat à la Bolivar (Note by A. S. Pushkin). Hat style. Bolivar Simon (1783-1830) - leader of the national liberation movement in Latin America.
34) Boulevard - it has been established that Pushkin’s Onegin goes to the Admiralteysky Boulevard that existed in St. Petersburg
35) Breguet - watch. A watch brand that has existed since the late 18th century. The Breguet company came to Russia in 1801 and quickly gained popularity among the nobility.
36) "Fall, fall!" — The cry of a coachman dispersing pedestrians while driving fast through crowded streets.
37) Talon is a famous restaurateur (Note by A.S. Pushkin).
38) Kaverin Pyotr Pavlovich (1794 - 1855) - Russian military leader, colonel, participant in foreign campaigns of 1813-1815. He was known as a reveler, a dashing rake and a brute.
39) Comet Wines - Champagne from the unusually rich harvest of 1811, which was associated with the appearance of a bright comet in the sky that year.
40) “bloody roast beef” is a dish of English cuisine, a new item on the menu in the 20s of the 19th century.
41) Truffles (truffle) - a mushroom that grows underground; brought from France; the truffle dish was very expensive.
42) Strasbourg pie - a delicious foie gras pate with the addition of truffles, hazel grouse and ground pork. Baked in dough to retain its shape. It was invented by the Norman chef Jean-Joseph Clause in 1782.
43) Limburg cheese is a semi-soft cheese made from cow's milk with a strong aroma, a characteristic pungent taste and a yellow creamy mass covered with a thin red-brown rind.
44) Entrechat - jump, ballet step (French).
45) “Phaedra, Cleopatra, Moina” - The most notable roles of the theatrical repertoire of that time: Phaedra - the heroine of the story of the same name by J.-B. Lemoine, based on Racine's tragedy, which was staged in St. Petersburg on December 18, 1818. Cleopatra is possibly a character in one of the performances of the French troupe that toured St. Petersburg since 1819. Moina is the heroine of V. Ozerov's tragedy "Fingal", in which in 1818 A. M. Kolosova made her debut.
46) (1745 - 1792) - Russian writer.
47) Knyazhnin Ya. B. (1742 - 1791) - Russian playwright who often borrowed plots from the works of French playwrights.
48) Ozerov V. A. (1769 - 1816) - Russian playwright, author of sentimental and patriotic tragedies that were a huge success with the public.
49) Semenova E. S. (1786 - 1849) - a popular actress who played in the tragedies of V. A. Ozerov - “Dmitry Donskoy”, “Oedipus in Athens” and others.
50) Katenin P. A. (1792 - 1853) - friend of the poet (1799 - 1837), officer of the Preobrazhensky Regiment, poet, playwright.
51) Corneille Pierre (1606 - 1684) - one of the founders of French classicism. Corneille's tragedies were translated into Russian by P. A. Katenin.
52) Shakhovskoy A. A. (1777 - 1846) - Russian poet and playwright, author of popular comedies, director, in charge of the repertoire policy of the imperial theaters.
53) Didelot Karl (1767 - 1837) - French choreographer and dancer. From 1801 to 1830 chief St. Petersburg choreographer.
54) Terpsichore is the muse of dance. Depicted with a lyre and plectrum.
55) - folding glasses in a frame with a handle.
56) Raek - the upper balcony in the auditorium.
57) Nymphs - forest deities; characters from classical operas and ballets.
58) Istomina A.I. (1799 - 1848) - prima ballerina of the St. Petersburg theater, one of Didelot’s best students, performer of the role of the Circassian woman in his ballet based on the plot of “Prisoner of the Caucasus”. It is known that in his youth Pushkin was fond of Istomina. Her images are available in the poet's manuscripts.
59) Aeolus is the god of the winds in ancient Greek mythology.
60) Double lorgnette - theater binoculars.
61) A trait of chilled feeling worthy of Chald Harold. Mr. Didelot's ballets are filled with wonder of imagination and extraordinary charm. One of our romantic writers found much more poetry in them than in all French literature (Note by A.S. Pushkin).
62) - in mythology and poetry - the deity of love, depicted as a winged child with a bow and arrow.
63) “They sleep on fur coats at the entrance” - in the theater of the early 19th century there was no wardrobe. Servants guarded the clothes of their masters.
64) “Amber on the pipes of Constantinople” - about long Turkish smoking pipes with amber mouthpieces.
65) Rousseau Jean Jacques (1712 - 1778) - famous French educator, writer and publicist.
66) Grim (Grimm) Frederick Melchior (1723 - 1807) - encyclopedist writer.
67) Tout le monde sut qu’il mettait du blanc; et moi, qui n'en croyais rien, je commençais de le croir, non seulement par l'embellissement de son teint et pour avoir trouvé des tasses de blanc sur sa toilette, mais sur ce qu'entrant un matin dans sa chambre, je le trouvai brossant ses ongles avec une petite vergette faite exprès, ouvrage qu'il continua fièrement devant moi. Je jugeai qu'un homme qui passe deux heures tous les matins à brosser ses onlges, peut bien passer quelques instants à remplir de blanc les creux de sa peau. (Confessions de J.J.Rousseau)
Make-up defined its age: now throughout enlightened Europe they clean their nails with a special brush. (Note by A.S. Pushkin).
“Everyone knew that he used whitewash; and I, who did not believe this at all, began to guess about it not only from the improvement in the color of his face or because I found jars of whitewash on his toilet, but because, going into his room one morning, I found him cleaning nails with a special brush; he proudly continued this activity in my presence. I decided that a person who spends two hours every morning cleaning his nails could take a few minutes to cover up imperfections with white.” (French).