Can’t now blame: that dreadful time To be more honest could you dare;
To me that time you were quite right,’ To you is grateful soul mine...
XLIV
‘But then... or it not true?.. in desert, From fussy rumours being far,
You didn’t like me; What has happened, That after me you now are?
And me you have in view...
What purpose?
Is it because in higher circles
Each other day be seen I must, That I am rich in wealthy caste?
In actions husband’s mutilated, And us for that at court caress?
Or that’s because all my disgrace Would eyes attract to you, belated,
And in the world could help to back Seductive though small respect?
XLV
‘I weep... If that your Tanya old Till now you could not forget,
Your pricks of swear, you must know, Your strict and cool severe chat
(If I had right for some decisions) I would prefer to slighting feelings,
To all these letters, tears, deeds...
That time to all my childish dreams
You had, I saw, some little pity, Some small respect to age, at least...
But nowadays... explain the gist; To feet of mine what is you leading?
And how, with your heart and mind, To he the slave of sense, not kind?
XLVI
‘To me, Onegin, all this splendour, This tinsel of repelling life,
And my in life success at random, My stylish place, the guests till night,
What’s use?
I would with joy allow To give this masquerade by now,
This noise, the lustre and the crooks, For wild a garden, shelves of books,
For that at distance poor dwelling, For place, in which the first toy time,
I saw, Onegin, you in life. For cemetry, eternal setting
In shade of branch some simple cross On grave of dear, poor nurse.
XLVII
‘And happiness was not unlikely, And so near!
But my fate
Decided is.
Incautious, likely, I was, but me could supplicate
My mother in her bitter tears Implored to yield; for Tanya here
All lots that time became alike; And then I married, I would like
To ask you: leave, do not be funny. You know, in your heart I find
Some real honour and the pride.
I love you (why should I be cunning?).
They’ve made me marry other man; And I’ll be true to him till end!
XLVIII
She went away.
My Eugene’s standing As if by thunder has been struck,
To what a storm of sudden sensing At heart he now has to duck!
But jingle of the spurs he hears, Tatyana’s husband just appears,
And thus my hero grin; At minute, difficult for him,
My reader, well he now leaving For long, for ever.
Alter him
Enough in common way with him We wandered in the world.