Alexander Pushkin Fullscreen Eugene Onegin (1833)

XV

The evening sky’s more dark.

The waters Are still.

Some noise by beetle’s raised.

Some round dance away disperses: Behind the river smoked, blazed

The fisher’s fire.

Field is clear In moonlight all it seems like silver.

In own dreams all’s being lost For long Tatyana goes forth.

She went and went.., All of a sudden Sees manor-house from a hill,

Some grove, hamlet under hill, Behind the river sees a garden;

She looks, and all her own heart More often’s heating and more hard.

XVI

The doubts all confused her soul:

‘Shall go forth or should return?..

He isn’t here...

I’m unknown...

I’ll take a look and then turn’,

She now from the hill comes down, And hardly breathing looks around

Bewildered and astonished hard...

She enters a deserted yard.

All barking, dogs to her are running.

At her much frightened loud cries

Of yard boys family just flies.

Ran up and not without fighting

The boys got dogs behind the fence And took the maiden for defence.

XYII

May I just see the banns home? Them Tanya asked.

As quick as can

To call Anisya children go, To take the keys from porch they ran;

At once Anisya then appeared; Through porch the way was quickly cleared

And she to empty house went In which had lived the novel’s crank.

She sees a hall forgotten now, A cue on billiard has a rest,

At crumpled canopy lies next A riding switch.

And with a bow

The woman says:

‘At fire-place Alone barin sat for days.

XVIII

In winter here they had dinner With Lensky, neighbour late, as rule...

You now come to rooms, the inner...

And here is the banns room.

He slept and coffee had he here, His menager’s reports could hear,

A book at mornings here read...

And old barin room this had;

In it, sometimes, on rare sundays At window, in glasses, he

To play the cards was used with me.

Let give the God his soul chances

To rescue, to his hones - peace In grave, in mother-soil at ease!’

XIX

Tatyana with her eyes amazing A look at everything can take,

And all to her it seems quite wealthy, Revives her languid soul’s rate