They friends became.
But wave and stone, The ice and flame, the verse and prose
Have less in difference between Each one.
At first they’d nothing seen In common.
Then they estimated Each one another; daily forth
They met each other, riding horse, And then became unseparated.
Such men (I’m first of them to blame) From boredom dear friends became,
XIV
But even such a friendship, readers, We haven’t now; each of us
Without prejudice considers The others oils but us as ones.
To be Napoleon each wishes, But millions of the two-legged creatures
For us are only some tools, And all ones passionate are fools.
But Eugene was beyond conception: Of course, he knew the people well,
In general he gave them hell, But any rule has some exception:
He differed people in effect, And other’s passions could respect.
XV
To Lensky he could listen smiling.
His ardent talk was full of haze;
His wit of poet was milding; His constantly inspired faze, -
He tried his cooling word to own, To keep away from man like this;
He thought: a fool would trouble his Such quickly fading high affection,
Without me his time will come, But now let him live in calm
And great belief in world’s perfection, Forgive him ardour of his age,
Of young delirium high rage.
XVI
Each topic’s argued at the meetings: To meditate they were in mood
On real price of ancient treaties, On evil, good, on science fruit,
On old prejudices harmful, Eternal secret tombs alarmful,
The fate and life in their turn To their judgement could return.
The poet in heat of judgement Some nothern poem could cite,
As if to prove that he was right. And Eugene, passionate, indulgent,
Who understood it wee a hit, All his attention paid to it.
XVII
But often passions were invading The mind of hermits, of my men.
Of passions press at last escaping, Again Onegin said of them
Unwillingly, with sighs of pity: He’s blessed, who knew all their pretty
Effects, but stepped away anew; He’s blessed much more, who never knew
The love; who cooled it with divorcement, By scandal enmity could strand,
And yawned with happy wife and friend, Not troubled by the jealous torment;
Who father’s money never trusts To cunning friends, to crufty cards,
XVIII
When we shall gather under banner Of stillness, rational and cairn,
When well have cooled the passions temper And no more they would alarm
All us, well laugh at their impulse, At late ridiculous opinions,
Then we’ll submissively obey To hear stories by the way
About other’s restless passions, And other’s love will touch the heart, -
We’ll be like invalid in hut, Who nears ears to confessions
Of boasting moustached young guards Who conquered pretty ladies’ hearts.
XIX
But all the youngsters, always flaming, Could never enmity conceal,