The capital’s high pick was there, Of fashion patterns, the elite.
The persons, known everywhere, And wanted fools for trampling feet.
Some old ladies had been seated, All capped, with roses, looked wicked;
They had invited several maids With never smiling, sullen face;
Of State the envoy always spoke About needs, the State had had;
With fragrant, all grey-haired head An old man said old jokes,
All line and clever at his date, A bit ridiculous to-day.
XXV
For epigrams was always greedy With everything quite cross a Dan;
With Lea, that’s given him too sweety; With ladies’ flatness; tunes of men;
With talks about novel hazy; With symbol, making sisters crazy; {36}
With war; with magazine’s white lie; With snow and with own wife,
Forbidding goddess, guile inventive, Of reigning, sumptuous Neva fine.
But people! all you are alike Your ancestor, called Eve, foremother: What’s given, hardly it involves, But constantly the Dragon calls
To him for tree, mysterious rather: Forbidden fruit to have you’d like, Or Eden to itself’s unlike.
XXVIII
But how greatly Tanya’s altered!
Her role how firmly played,
And could of high oppressive order All manners quickly imitate!
And who would look for maiden tender In this majestic casual manner
Of legislator of the halls?
And he inspired her at dawns!
Sometimes of him in midnight hazes, Untill yet Morpheus, she believes,
Would come, she innocently grieves, Her languid eyes to moon she raises;
And dreams, that she with him as wife Will pass the peaceful mute of life!
XXIX
For love all ages are submissive But to the innocent young heart
It is benevolent, releasing, Like vernal storms in fields make start
The first in life the stormy passions, And they give birth to new impressions,
Then life almighty brings the good: A pompous bloom arid costly fruit,
But if the age is late and fruitless At natural turn of life for rack,
Is sad of passions dead a track; This way the storms of autumn coolness
Convert the meadows to pools And bare, leafless make the woods.
XXX
Alas! my Eugene, no doubts, With Tanya is in love like child;
In languish of the loving bounds He’s spending now day and night.
Of sense precautions never heeding, To her glass porch too close speeding,
Arrives he now every day; Her follows like own shade:
He’s happy now just to throw On shoulders her fluffy wrap,
Or, like in fever, can he get A touch of hand, or helps to go
Through thickened crowd of the guests, Or handkerchief picks up with jests.
XXXI
To him she doesn’t pay attention, You strive or die, it is the same:
At home meets without tension, At visits two-three words would say
With more bow can be meeting, Sometimes at all him isn’t seeing;
For flirt she never gives a hint - For that high world is never fit.
To loose his colour he’s beginning: She doesn’t see or she’s too hard!?
Onegin’s pining, feels a smart, He seems to be consumption feeling.
To doctors he is being sent. The doctors him to waters send.
XXXII