He doesn’t go, ready now To write to ancestors: to hail
Before arrival; anyhow She isn’t bothered (that’s female!);
But he is stubborn: to renounce Unfit, yet hopes, hustles; bounce
More brave than sound man, a grand His message wants to send: weak hand
A passionate epistle’s writing.
In letters though he again
Sees no use (and not in vain). But hearty pain to be abiding
Became alredy quite inapt.
His letter’s here, quite exact.
Eugene’s letter to Tatyana
I can foresee: you’ll be abused By sad and secret explanation.
With scornful bitter contemplation Your proud look will me refuse!
But what I’d want? what task am aiming By opening my heart. to you?
To what malicious merry-making, It may be, give a cause for you!
By chance I met you long ago. A spark of tenderness you showed.
I didn’t dare to believe: Cave no start to habits dear,
As I to loose my freedom feared Which’s hateful to my own will.
But something more us separated...
Unlucky victim, Lensky’s gone...
From everything to me legated, I had my heart for ever torn;
By nothing bound, I’m a stranger: I thought: the freedom, peace for me
Replace the fortune.
Goodness me!
What blunder! I’m a punished ranger.
To see you more to have a chance. To follow you everywhere;
The smile of lips, the move of eyes To catch by loving eyes somewhere;
For long to hear, understand Perfections yours, all them confessing
In front of you in pangs to stand, To pale, to fade... That is the blessing?
I’ve been deprived of that; I race, At hazard after you I’m dangling:
I prize my hours, my days: But I’m in idle boredom wasting
By fate all counted my days, All painful are they nowadays,
I see: my age is short: to cure My life for every other day,
From morning forth I must be sure, That I shall see you just to-day.
I dread: in my submissive prayers You’ll see by strict, severe gaze
Some scornful, cunning, idle ventures, - Your angry blame I grasp in haze.
If you could know, what’s diminished To languish in the thirst for love,
In flame by wit to cool each minute The agitation in the blood;
For long to wish, your knees embracing, And weeping at your dear feet,
Entreaties and confessions making, To speak of anything I feel,
Meanwhile with cold sham to dare To force the speech and look with mock
To go on with calm a talk, To fix at you the joyful stare!..
But let it go: at this rate To strive against myself alone
I can’t I am at will your own And I give up to all my fate.
XXXIII
But no answer...
He is seeking New ways. The second day, the third
Without answer.
He for meeting Arrived; is coming... just has got
To meet princess.
But what severe!