To my village at the same time. “Here is my Onegin - a villager...”
To my village at the same timeThe new landowner galloped up
And equally strict analysis
In the neighborhood the occasion was given by:
Named Vladimir Lensky,
With a soul straight from Göttingen,
Handsome man, in full bloom,
Kant's admirer and poet.
He's from foggy Germany
He brought the fruits of learning:
Freedom-loving dreams
The spirit is ardent and rather strange,
Always an enthusiastic speech
And shoulder-length black curls.
Göttingen truly has a special spirit. The city is much more “young” than Hanover - huge numbers of students on the streets and driving cars. By the way, what immediately catches your eye is that there are more girls driving than guys.
Something in the historical center of the city smacks of grotesque. Imagine a kind of Gothic church. Ancient and majestic. And on her wall is the work of an unknown student, informing passers-by that Religion ist, as you know, is Opium für das Volk. :)
Or the giant doors of some university building, which are already several centuries old. The kind that makes you feel like a bug. Two and a half human height. And next door there is a rock painting in the form of a swastika with one paint, which is crossed out with another paint, and below detailed explanation(with the same paint that was used to cross out) where the local Nazis should go. :-)
On the city rampart on a bench there are declarations of love, written, it seems, with a stroke - the kind of white garbage that is used to correct text written with a pen.
Road traffic is much more active than in Hanover. There is no ring road around Göttingen (which is where the lion's share of cars travel in Hannover), and cars drive on regular streets. One of them - long and central - completely captivated. Well, exactly - the Red Path in Omsk. Only the markings are good, the signs are not so dusty and wrinkled, the curbs are smoother, the asphalt is better, and there is a dividing island in the middle of the road, not two stripes.
There is a cemetery along this street. I couldn't resist - I went in. For two years now I have not been able to pass by cemeteries without stopping. Famous professors, founding fathers who died in the 17th century.
The cemetery corner is closed. There is a thick rusty chain with a lock on the gate. Three Hebrew letters are carved on the stone fence. There are many graves inside, where only the names on the stones are in Latin - the rest is in Hebrew. There is tall grass on the graves. There are also professors among those lying there, but they don’t let them in so easily. To avoid. You could, of course, go and take the key from the security guard, but somehow...
And next to the cemetery there is a tree that is hundreds of years old. I don't remember exactly.
For some reason, a passerby greeted me. Why? It seems that the city is not so small.
Yes, by the way, there is also a street here called Jüdenstrasse. True, I didn’t notice anything Jewish there.
But next door there was a restaurant owned by a certain Sommer and a jewelry store named after a Ukrainian surname - alas, I don’t remember which one. Moreover, the shop is more than a hundred years old. I can’t imagine where the Ukrainian jeweler came from a hundred years ago. :)
Göttingen is different from German cities I've seen. The width of the streets, the freedom of the sidewalks, the expressions on people's faces. It's easy to breathe here.
“Here is my Onegin - a villager...”
The period of Onegin's village life is the time of the brightest revelation of his personality, both positive and negative qualities. Thus, Onegin does not hide his arrogant disdain for his neighbors, the poorly educated, narrow-minded rural landowners.
Hearing “their household noises,” he mounted his horse and rode away from home, which is why he became known among his neighbors as “ignorant.”
He is not interested in village life, the people around him are not interested. And soon he “saw clearly that in the village there was the same boredom.” A person accustomed to work would find a huge field of activity there. Evgeny settles in the village - life has at least somehow changed. At first, his new situation entertains him, but he soon becomes convinced that here it is just as boring as in St. Petersburg. Easing the plight of the peasants, Eugene replaced corvee with quitrent. Because of such innovations, as well as insufficient courtesy, Onegin became known among his neighbors as “the most dangerous eccentric.” And here he turns out to be “an extra person.” Onegin is also alien to the provincials - “their conversations about wine, about the kennel, about their relatives” were boring to him.
Nothing to do, friends - Onegin and Lensky
Where the days are cloudy and short,
A tribe will be born for which it is not painful to die.
Petrarch
At the same time, eighteen-year-old Vladimir Lensky, “an admirer of Kant and a poet,” returns from Germany to a neighboring estate. His soul has not yet been corrupted by the light, he believes in love, glory, the highest and mysterious goal of life. With sweet innocence, he sings of “something and the foggy distance” in sublime verse. A handsome man, an advantageous groom, Lensky does not want to embarrass himself either by marriage or even by participating in the everyday conversations of his neighbors. And then he meets Lensky - the new owner of the neighboring estate, Vladimir Lensky...
To my village at the same time
The new landowner galloped up
And equally strict analysis
The neighborhood provided a reason.
Named after Vladimir Lensky
This is a completely different person, he is not like his neighbors - the landowners who slandered Onegin: “Our neighbor is ignorant... he is a pharmacist, he drinks one glass of red wine... bottles, and big ones...” Pushkin A.S. . Evgeniy Onegin. Dramatic works. Novels. M.: Literature, p. 54. Lensky is the only one with whom Evgeniy agrees. village and making friends with him, Eugene seemed to come to life for a while. But they are so different:
Wave and stone
Poetry and prose, ice and fire
Not so different from each other.
They became friends because everyone else was not at all suitable for friendship, because each was bored in his village, having no serious activities, no real business, because the lives of both of them, in essence, were not filled with anything.
So people (I am the first to repent)
There's nothing to do, friends.
This “I am the first to repent” is characteristic of Pushkin. Yes, and in his life there were such friendly relations- there was nothing to do - which I later had to bitterly repent of: with Fyodor Tolstoy - the “American”, the same one about whom Griboedov says: “He was exiled to Kamchatka, returned as an Aleut, and is very unclean in his hand; yes clever man cannot be a rogue,” A.S. Griboedov, “Woe from Wit.” - M.: Khudozh. Literature, 1977. p. 68. Perhaps Pushkin, when he wrote these lines, was thinking about Alexander Raevsky, his “Demon,” this friend brought him a lot of grief.
Lensky's romanticism seems to Onegin to be funny, an absurd fantasy. Vladimir is cut off from reality, he doesn’t know life at all, his head is in the clouds. Onegin, although cold and calculating, lives with his mind, not his heart. Both Evgeny and Pushkin himself ironize and laugh at the eccentric Lensky. However, Vladimir seems to make up for what he lacks in Evgeniy’s soul. And that's why the heroes are friends.
Pushkin needs the image of Lensky in order to show how far these heroes are from each other:
“Everything gave rise to disputes between them,
And it led me to think:
Tribes of past treaties,
The fruits of science, good and evil..."
Completely different people, Lensky and Onegin nevertheless converge and often spend time together. However, in his friendship with Lensky, Onegin’s very worthy qualities also manifested themselves. Evgeniy listens with a smile to Lensky’s “young nonsense.” Believing that over the years, delusions will disappear on their own, Onegin is in no hurry to disappoint the poet; Lensky’s ardor of feelings still arouses respect in him. Lensky tells his friend about his extraordinary love for Olga, whom he has known since childhood and whom he has long been predicted to be his bride.
He's a cooling word
I tried to keep it in my mouth
And I thought: it’s stupid to bother me
His momentary bliss;
And without me the time will come;
Let him live for now
May the world believe in perfection...
One evening Lensky is going to visit the Larins. Onegin finds such a pastime boring, but then he decides to join his friend to look at the object of his love.
The mother of Tatyana and Olga was once married against her will. In the village where she was taken, she cried at first, but then she got used to it, got used to it, and began to “autocratically” manage the household and her husband. Dmitry Larin sincerely loved his wife, trusting her in everything. The family revered ancient customs and rituals: they fasted during Lent, and baked pancakes during Maslenitsa. Their life passed so calmly until the “simple and kind gentleman” died. Life goes on, one generation is replaced by another.
The time will come, “... our grandchildren in good time / Will push us out of the world too!” Pushkin A.S. Eugene Onegin. Dramatic works. Novels. Stories. With. 64.. It was Lensky who persuaded Onegin to visit the widow Larina, with whose daughter, Olga, the young poet was in love. So he went to meet Lensky’s beloved Olga, in society, first of all, due to his social status and upbringing.
“Eyes, like the sky, blue, smile, flaxen curls... - everything about Olga...” Pushkin A.S. There, p. 61.
In the Larins' house, Evgeniy meets Olga's older sister, Tatyana. She is not at all like the ruddy, blond, always cheerful Olga elder sister, Tatiana. Thoughtful and sad, she prefers loneliness and reading foreign novels to noisy games.
The girl is immediately attracted to you young man with your intelligence, naturalness, spirituality. He appreciated both the girl’s discreet external beauty and her rich inner world.
On the way back, Evgeniy openly shares his impressions: Olga, in his opinion, is ordinary; in the place of the young poet, he would rather choose his older sister.
Meanwhile, an unexpected visit from friends gave rise to gossip about future wedding Evgeniy and Tatiana. Tatyana herself secretly thinks about Onegin: “The time has come, she fell in love.” Pushkin A.S., Evgeny Onegin. Dramatic works. Novels. Stories, p. 64. Immersed in reading novels, Tatyana imagines herself as their heroine, and Onegin as their hero. At night she cannot sleep and starts talking about love with the nanny. She tells how she was married off at the age of thirteen, and cannot understand the young lady. Suddenly Tatyana asks for a pen and paper and starts writing a letter to Onegin. In him, trusting, obedient to the attraction of feelings, Tatyana is frank. She, in her sweet simplicity, is unaware of the danger, does not observe the caution inherent in the “inaccessible” cold St. Petersburg beauties and cunning coquettes who lure fans into their networks. The letter was written in French, since ladies at that time were much more accustomed to express themselves in this language. Tatyana believes that Evgeny was “sent from God” to her, that she cannot entrust her destiny to anyone else. She is waiting for a decision and answer from Onegin.
In the morning, Tatyana, in excitement, asks nanny Filipyevna to send a letter to her neighbor. An agonizing wait ensues. Lensky finally arrives, followed by Onegin. Tatyana quickly runs into the garden, where the maidservants sing while picking berries.
Tatyana just can’t calm down, and suddenly Evgeniy appears in front of her...
The sincerity and simplicity of Tatiana's letter touched Onegin. If an ordinary secular dandy were in his place, he would not fail to “deceive... the gullibility of an innocent soul”, have fun in the wilderness with a naive rural young lady - and, parting with her, as soon as he gets tired of her, doom her to torment and misfortune. .. Onegin did not do this - but he is not an ordinary secular dandy! He is, after all, a good friend of Pushkin. He knows the value of the world and its “important amusements”, Pushkin himself loves in him “involuntary devotion to dreams” - and these dreams are ready to come true: a beautiful, proud, spiritually rich, exalted girl offers him her love, and he runs from her, runs from your dream.
In the name of what?
Whenever life around home
I wanted to limit...
That would be true except for you alone
I was looking for no other bride...
But I am not made for bliss;
My soul is alien to him...
It is not true! How can a person say about himself: “I was not created for bliss”?! All people are created for happiness, but not everyone knows how to be happy - Onegin doesn’t know how, he’s afraid. He blurts out:
I will say without madrigal sparkles:
Found my old ideal
I would definitely choose you alone
To the friends of my sad days...
This means that a girl like Tatyana was once Onegin’s ideal! But this ideal is “the same,” Onegin no longer believes in it; late, as it seems to him, he met Tatyana... Hating and despising the world, he is nevertheless infected with its views, its prejudices:
No matter how much I love you,
Having gotten used to it, I immediately stop loving it;
You start crying: your tears
My heart will not be touched
And they will only infuriate him...
Why is Onegin so sure that there can be no other “family happiness”? Because he saw too many similar examples in the world:
What could be worse in the world?
Families where the poor wife
Sad about an unworthy husband
Alone both day and evening;
Where is the boring husband, knowing her worth
(However, cursing fate),
Always frowning, silent,
Angry and coldly jealous!
Once upon a time, in his early youth, Onegin probably believed in the possibility of high love for life. But the light killed this faith - and even the hope of its return:
There is no return to dreams and years;
I will not renew my soul...
Here it is - Onegin’s main tragedy: “I will not renew my soul”! Of course, from his point of view, he is right, he acts nobly: not believing in the possibility of love, he refuses it, and at the same time educates the naive Tatyana.
The girl listens to him in tears. He appreciated both the girl’s discreet external beauty and her rich inner world. Having read her declaration of love, Eugene did not deceive her, did not take advantage of the “gullibility of an innocent soul”: “Not for the first time here he showed direct nobility to the soul.” But Onegin is deprived of the ability to love, his feelings have become impoverished. And therefore he easily suppresses the involuntary excitement experienced at the sight of Tatyana and after receiving her letter. The history of his relationship with Tatyana Larina shows us how easily a hero can cause evil to people just like that, out of boredom.
Learn to control yourself;
Not everyone will understand you like I do;
Inexperience leads to trouble.
We have to admit that Onegin acted quite nobly with Tanya, no matter how his enemies and friends honored him. In our lives we cannot rely on friends, family, or loved ones. What remains? "Love yourself..."
After an explanation with Onegin, Tatyana “fades, turns pale, fades away and is silent.” Lensky and Olga, on the contrary, are cheerful. They are together all the time. Lensky decorates Olga's album with drawings and elegies.
Meanwhile, Onegin indulges in a quiet village life: “walking, reading, deep sleep.” The northern summer quickly passes, the boring autumn time comes, and after it - frosts. Winter days Onegin is sitting at home, Lensky comes to visit him. Friends drink wine, talk by the fireplace, and remember their neighbors. Lensky gives Evgeny an invitation to Tatiana’s name day, enthusiastically talking about Olga. The wedding has already been planned, Lensky has no doubt that he is loved, so he is happy. His faith is naive, but is it possible? it's better that way, in whom “the experience has cooled the heart”?
Tatyana loves the Russian winter: sleigh rides, sunny frosty days and dark evenings. Christmas time is coming. Fortune telling, ancient legends, dreams and omens - Tatyana believes in all this. At night she is going to cast a spell, but she becomes scared. Tatyana goes to bed, taking off her silk belt. She has a strange dream. She walks alone in the snow, a stream is rustling ahead, and there is a thin bridge above it. Suddenly a huge bear appears, which helps Tatyana cross to the other side, and then chases her. Tatyana tries to run, but falls exhausted. The bear brings her to some hut and disappears. Having come to her senses, Tatyana hears screams and noise, and through the crack in the door she sees incredible monsters, among them as the owner - Onegin! Suddenly the door opens with a breath of wind, and the whole gang of hellish ghosts, laughing wildly, approaches it. Hearing Onegin's menacing word, everyone disappears. Evgeny attracts Tatiana to him, but then Olga and Lensky appear. An argument breaks out. Onegin, dissatisfied with the uninvited guests, grabs a knife and kills Lensky. Darkness, scream... Tatyana wakes up and immediately tries to unravel the dream.
The name day is coming. Guests are arriving. Onegin's arrival makes Tanya nervous, and Evgeniy is irritated by it. He is indignant at Lensky for calling him here. After lunch the ball begins. Onegin finds an excuse to take revenge on Lensky: he is nice to Olga, constantly dances with her. Lensky is amazed. He wants to invite Olga to the next dance, but his bride has already given her word to Onegin.
To my village at the same time
The new landowner galloped up
And equally strict analysis
The neighborhood provided a reason.
Named Vladimir Lensky,
With a soul straight from Göttingen,
Handsome man, in full bloom,
Kant's admirer and poet.
He's from foggy Germany
He brought the fruits of learning:
Freedom-loving dreams
The spirit is ardent and rather strange,
Always an enthusiastic speech
And shoulder-length black curls.
Well, let's talk about Lensky...
Alas, this third most important hero of the novel is presented by Pushkin rather as a kind of symbol, as a decoration against which others “live.” Onegin is Faust, the result of the quest, Tatyana is a woman, a natural force given by Pushkin without any explanation at all, and Lensky... Lensky is simply a “romantic youth”, a disposable character.
Pushkin gave Tatyana’s mother, even Zaretsky, a “biography”, worked hard, and Lensky he painted with one “stroke” (“Germany”), and pretended to bring to life with a dozen common features (“curls”, etc.). And in the end, even for school essays There are no such topics - “The Image of Lensky” - what should I talk about?
Novel in verse by A. S. Pushkin (volume 2)
Publishing house " Fiction"Moscow 1986
Short version (Zoya Skobtsova)
Preface (Zoya Skobtsova) Registration No. 117032000185
"Addressing you, my reader,
I beg your pardon:
What the brilliant poet wrote,
The owner of this passage,
It's impossible to rate here!
Just briefly, just the contents,
I undertake to convey for you;
Perhaps someone to shine,
Or maybe just out of desire,
He'll want to remember it by heart!"
Volsk 04/02/2016
CHAPTER FIRST
1.1.
page 187
My uncle has the most honest rules,
When I seriously fell ill,
He forced himself to respect
And I couldn't think of anything better.
His example to others is science;
But, my God, what boredom
To sit with the patient day and night,
- 3 -
Without leaving a single step!
What low deceit
To amuse the half-dead,
Adjust his pillows
It's sad to bring medicine,
Sigh and think to yourself
When will the devil take you?
So thought the young rake,
Flying in the dust on postage,
By the Almighty will of Zeus
Heir to all his relatives.
Having served excellently - nobly,
His father lived in debt
Gave three balls annually
And finally squandered it.
1.2.
p.188
Eugene's fate kept:
At first Madame followed him,
Then the Monter replaced her.
The child was harsh, but sweet.
Monter Gabbe, poor Frenchman,
So that the child does not get tired,
I taught him everything jokingly,
I didn’t bother you with strict morals,
Lightly scolded for pranks
And he took me for a walk in the summer garden.
- 4 -
When will the rebellious youth
The time has come for Evgeniy
It's time for hope and tender sadness,
The fitter was driven out of the yard.
Here is my Onegin in freedom:
Haircut in the latest fashion,
How Dandy London is dressed -
And finally saw the light.
He's completely French
He could express himself and wrote;
I danced the mazurka easily
And he bowed casually;
What more? The light has decided
That he is smart and very nice.
We all learned a little bit
Something and somehow,
So upbringing, thank God,
It’s no wonder for us to shine.
Onegin was, according to many,
(decisive and strict judges),
A small scientist, but a pedant,
He had a lucky talent
No coercion in conversation
Touch everything lightly
With the learned air of an expert
Remain silent in an important dispute
And make the ladies smile
Fire of unexpected zpigrams.
1.3.
Page 189
Everything Evgeniy knew
Tell me about your lack of time;
Page 191
Sometimes he was still in bed:
They bring him notes.
What? Invitations? Indeed,
Three houses for the evening call:
There will be a ball, there will be a children's party,
Where will my prankster ride?
Who will he start with? Doesn't matter:
It’s no wonder to keep up everywhere.
Page 199
What about my Onegin? Half asleep
He goes to bed from the ball.
And St. Petersburg is restless
Already awakened by the drum.
Page 200
But tired of the noise of the ball
And the morning turns to midnight,
Sleeps peacefully in the blessed shade
Fun and luxury child.
Page 205
Suddenly he actually received
That uncle is dying in bed
- 6 -
And I would be glad to say goodbye to him.
After reading the sad message,
Onegin goes on a date right away
Swiftly galloped through the mail
And I already yawned in advance,
Getting ready, for the sake of money,
For sighs, boredom and deception
(And that’s how I started my novel;)
But, having arrived at my uncle’s village,
I found it already on the table,
As a tribute to the ready land.
1.4
Here is our Onegin - a villager,
Factories, waters, forests, lands
The owner is full, and until now,
An enemy of order and a spendthrift,
And I’m very glad that the old path
Changed it to something.
CHAPTER TWO
2.1
Page 208
The village where Evgeniy was bored,
There was a lovely walk;
There's a friend of innocent pleasures
I could bless the sky
Alone among his possessions.
- 7 -
Page 210
To my village at the same time
The new landowner galloped up
And equally strict analysis
The neighborhood provided a reason.
Named Vladimir Lensky,
Handsome man, in full bloom,
Kant's admirer and poet.
He's from foggy Germany
He brought the fruits of learning:
Freedom-loving dreams
The spirit is ardent and rather strange,
Always an enthusiastic speech
And shoulder-length black curls.
Page 212
Rich and handsome Lensky
Everywhere he was accepted as a groom;
This is the village custom.
Page 213
But Lensky, without having, of course,
There is no desire to marry,
With Onegin I wished cordially
Let's make the acquaintance shorter.
They got along. Wave and stone
Poetry and prose, ice and fire
Not so different from each other.
They were boring to each other;
- 8 -
Then I liked it; Then
We came together every day on horseback
And soon they became inseparable.
2.2.
Page 216
A little boy, captivated by Olga,
Having not yet known heartache,
He was a constant witness
Her infantile fun.
She gave the poet
Young delights first dream
And the thought of her inspired
Her tarsus's first moan.
Page 217
Her sister's name was Tatyana,
Nor beauty his sister,
Nor the freshness of her ruddy
She wouldn't attract anyone's attention.
Dick, sad, silent,
Like a forest deer is timid,
She is in her own family
The girl seemed like a stranger.
CHAPTER THREE
3.1.
Page 225
"Tell me, which one is Tatyana?"
- 9 -
Yes, the one who is sad
And silent, like Svetlana,
She came in and sat by the window. -
“Are you really in love with the smaller one?”
- And what? - "I would choose another,
If only I were like you, a poet.
Page 228
Olga has no life in her features.
Vladimir answered dryly
And then he was silent the whole way.
3.2.
Meanwhile, Onegin's phenomenon
The Larins produced
Everyone is very impressed
And all the neighbors were entertained.
Guess after guess went on.
Everyone began to interpret furtively,
It is not without sin to joke and judge,
Tatiana predicts a groom.
Tatyana listened with annoyance
Such gossip; but secretly
With inexplicable joy
I couldn’t help but think about it;
And a thought sank into my heart;
The time has come, she fell in love.
Long-time heartache
Her young breasts were tight;
The soul was waiting... for someone
And she waited... The eyes opened,
She said: it's him!
3.3.
Page 227
Now with what attention she pays
Reading a sweet novel
What a charm she has
Drinks seductive deception!
Page 229
Tatiana, dear Tatiana!
With you now I shed tears;
You are in the hands of a gloomy tyrant
I've already given up my fate.
Page 230
The longing for love drives Tatiana
And she goes to the garden to be sad,
And suddenly his eyes droop, motionless,
And she’s too lazy to move on.
Night will come; the moon goes around
Watch the distant vault of heaven,
Tatyana doesn't sleep in the dark
And quietly says to the nanny:
Page 231
“I’m in love,” she whispered again
She said it to the old lady with bitterness.
- Dear friend, you are unwell. -
"Leave me, I'm in love."
And my heart ran far
Tatiana, looking at the moon...
Page 232
Suddenly a thought appeared in her mind...
"Go ahead, leave me alone.
Give me a pen and paper, nanny,
Yes, move the table; I'll go to bed soon;
I'm sorry." And here she is alone.
Everything is quiet. The moon is shining on her
Leaning on her elbows, Tatyana writes.
And everything is on Onegin’s mind,
And in thoughtless writing
The love of an innocent maiden breathes.
The letter is ready, folded...
Tatiana! Who is it for?
Hor. O village! Horace (lat.)
The village where Evgeniy was bored,
There was a lovely corner;
There's a friend of innocent pleasures
I could bless the sky.
The master's house is secluded,
Protected from the winds by a mountain,
He stood over the river. In the distance
Before him they dazzled and bloomed
Golden meadows and fields,
Villages flashed by; here and there
The herds roamed the meadows,
And the canopy expanded thick
Huge, neglected garden,
Shelter of Brooding Dryads Dryads are forest spirits, nymphs of trees..
The venerable castle was built
How castles should be built:
Extremely durable and calm
In the taste of smart antiquity.
There are lofty chambers everywhere,
There is damask wallpaper in the living room,
Portraits of kings on the walls,
And stoves with colorful tiles.
All this is now dilapidated,
I don’t really know why;
Yes, however, my friend
There was very little need for that,
Then he yawned
Among fashionable and ancient halls.
He settled in that peace,
Where is the village old-timer?
For about forty years he was quarreling with the housekeeper,
I looked out the window and squashed flies.
Everything was simple: the floor was oak,
Two wardrobes, a table, a down sofa,
Not a speck of ink anywhere.
Onegin opened the cabinets;
In one I found an expense notebook,
In another there is a whole line of liqueurs,
Jugs with apple water
And the calendar for the eighth year:
An old man with a lot to do
I didn’t look at other books.
Alone among his possessions,
Just to pass the time,
Our Evgeniy first conceived
Establish a new order.
In his wilderness the desert sage,
He is the yoke of the ancient corvée
I replaced it with easy quitrent;
And the slave blessed fate.
But in his corner he sulked,
Seeing this as terrible harm,
His calculating neighbor;
That he is a most dangerous weirdo.
At first everyone went to see him;
But since from the back porch
Usually served
He wants a Don stallion,
Only along the main road
Their household noises will be heard, -
Offended by such an act,
Everyone ended their friendship with him.
“Our neighbor is ignorant; crazy;
He is a pharmacist; he drinks one
A glass of red wine;
He doesn't suit ladies' arms;
It's all yes and no;
won't say yes
To my village at the same time
The new landowner galloped up
And equally strict analysis
The neighborhood provided a reason.
Or no, sir.”
That was the general voice. Named Vladimir Lenskoy, With a soul straight from Göttingen,
Handsome man, in full bloom,
Kant's admirer and poet.
He's from foggy Germany
He brought the fruits of learning:
Freedom-loving dreams
The spirit is ardent and rather strange,
Always an enthusiastic speech
And shoulder-length black curls.
With a soul straight from Göttingen
– The University of Göttingen in Germany was one of the most liberal universities in Europe.
From the cold depravity of the world
Before you even have time to fade,
His soul was warmed
Hello friend, caress of the maidens;
He was a dear ignoramus at heart,
He was cherished by hope,
And the world has a new shine and noise
Still captivated the young mind.
He amused me with a sweet dream
Doubts of your heart;
The purpose of our life is for him
Was a tempting mystery
He puzzled over her
And he suspected miracles.
He believed that his soul was dear
Must connect with him
That, despairingly languishing,
She waits for him every day;
He believed that his friends were ready
For his honor to accept the shackles
And that their hand will not tremble
Break the slanderer's vessel;
That there are those chosen by fate,
People's sacred friends;
That their immortal family
Irresistible rays
Someday it will dawn on us
And the world will be blessed.
Indignation, regret,
For good, pure love
And glory is sweet torment
His blood was stirred early.
He traveled the world with a lyre;
Under the sky of Schiller and Goethe
Their poetic fire
The soul ignited in him;
And muses of sublime art,
Lucky, he was not ashamed:
He proudly preserved in his songs
Always high feelings
He sang love, obedient to love,
And his song was clear,
Like the thoughts of a simple-minded maiden,
Like a baby's dream, like the moon
In the deserts of the serene sky,
Goddess of secrets and tender sighs;
He sang separation and sadness,
And something, and the foggy distance,
And romantic roses;
He sang those distant countries
Where long in the bosom of silence
His living tears flowed;
He sang the faded color of life
Almost eighteen years old.
In the desert, where Eugene is alone
Could appreciate his gifts,
Lords of neighboring villages
He didn't like feasts;
He ran away from their noisy conversation,
Their conversation is sensible
About haymaking, about wine,
About the kennel, about my relatives,
Of course, he didn’t shine with any feeling,
Not with poetic fire,
Neither sharpness nor intelligence,
No hostel art;
But the conversation of their lovely wives
He was much less intelligent.
Rich, good-looking, Lensky
Everywhere he was accepted as a groom;
This is the village custom;
All daughters were destined for their own
Behind half-Russian neighbor;
Will he come up, immediately the conversation
Turns the word around
About the boredom of single life;
They call the neighbor to the samovar,
And Dunya is pouring tea,
They whisper to her: “Dunya, take note!”
Then they bring the guitar;
And she squeaks (My God!):
Come to my golden palace !.. From the first part of the Dnieper mermaid.
But Lensky, without having, of course,
There is no desire to marry,
With Onegin I wished cordially
Let's make the acquaintance shorter.
They got along. Wave and stone
Poetry and prose, ice and fire
Not so different from each other.
First by mutual difference
They were boring to each other;
Then I liked it; Then
We came together every day on horseback
And soon they became inseparable.
So people (I am the first to repent)
There's nothing to do, friends.
But there is no friendship between us either.
Having destroyed all prejudices,
We respect everyone as zeros,
And in units - yourself.
We all look at Napoleons;
There are millions of two-legged creatures
For us there is only one weapon,
We feel wild and funny.
Evgeniy was more tolerable than many;
Although he knew people, of course
And in general he despised them, -
But (there are no rules without exceptions)
He distinguished others very much
And I respected someone else’s feelings.
He listened to Lensky with a smile.
The poet's passionate conversation,
And the mind, still unsteady in judgment,
And an eternally inspired gaze, -
Everything was new to Onegin;
He's a cooling word
I tried to keep it in my mouth
And I thought: it’s stupid to bother me
His momentary bliss;
And without me the time will come,
Let him live for now
Let the world believe in perfection;
Forgive the fever of youth
And youthful heat and youthful delirium.
Everything gave rise to disputes between them
And it led me to think:
Tribes of past treaties,
The fruits of science, good and evil,
And age-old prejudices,
And the grave secrets are fatal,
Fate and life in their turn, -
Everything was subject to their judgment.
The poet in the heat of his judgments
I read, having forgotten myself, meanwhile
Excerpts from northern poems,
And indulgent Evgeniy,
Although I didn’t understand them much,
He listened diligently to the young man.
But more often they were occupied by passions
The minds of my hermits.
Having left their rebellious power,
Onegin spoke about them
With an involuntary sigh of regret;
Blessed is he who knew their worries
And finally he left them behind;
Blessed is he who did not know them,
Who cooled love with separation,
Enmity - slander; sometimes
Yawned with friends and with my wife,
Jealous, not bothered by torment,
And grandfathers' faithful capital
I didn’t trust the insidious two.
When we come running under the banner
Prudent silence,
When the flame of passions goes out
And we start to laugh
Their willfulness or impulses
And belated reviews, -
The humble, not without difficulty,
We love to listen sometimes
The passions of strangers are a rebellious language,
And he moves our hearts.
That's right, an old disabled person
The diligent ear willingly inclines
The stories of young mustaches,
Forgotten in his hut.
But also fiery youth
Can't hide anything.
Enmity, love, sadness and joy
She's ready to talk.
In love, considered disabled,
Onegin listened with an important look,
How, loving confession of the heart,
The poet expressed himself;
Your trusting conscience
He innocently exposed.
Evgeniy found out without difficulty
His love is a young story,
A story full of feelings,
Not new to us for a long time.
Oh, he loved like in our summer
They no longer love; as one
The Mad Soul of the Poet
Still condemned to love:
Always, everywhere one dream,
One common desire
One familiar sadness.
Nor the cooling distance,
Nor long summers of separation,
This watch is not given to the muses,
Nor foreign beauties,
No noise of fun, no science
The souls in him have not changed,
Warmed by virgin fire.
A little boy, captivated by Olga,
Having not yet known heartache,
He was a touched witness
Her infant amusements;
In the shadow of a guardian oak grove
He shared her fun
And crowns were predicted for the children
Friends and neighbors, their fathers.
In the wilderness, under a humble canopy,
Full of innocent charm
In the eyes of her parents, she
Bloomed like a secret lily of the valley,
Unknown in the grass, deaf
Neither moths nor bees.
She gave the poet
The first dream of youthful delights,
And the thought of her inspired
His tarsus's first groan.
Sorry, the games are golden!
He fell in love with dense groves,
Solitude, silence,
And the night, and the stars, and the moon,
The moon, the heavenly lamp,
To which we dedicated
Walking in the evening darkness
And tears, secret torments will bring joy...
But now we see only in her
Replacing dim lights.
Always modest, always obedient,
Always cheerful like the morning,
How a poet's life is simple-minded,
How sweet is love's kiss,
Eyes like the sky blue;
Smile, flaxen curls,
Everything in Olga... but any novel
Take it and you will find it, right,
Her portrait: he is very cute,
I used to love him myself,
But he bored me immensely.
Allow me, my reader,
Take care of your older sister.
Her sister's name was Tatyana... The most sweet-sounding greek names, such as, for example: Agathon, Filat, Fedora, Thekla, etc., are used in our country only among common people.
For the first time with such a name
Tender pages of the novel
We willfully sanctify.
So what? it is pleasant, sonorous;
But with him, I know, it’s inseparable
Memories of antiquity
Or girlish! We all should
Frankly: there is very little taste
In us and in our names
(We're not talking about poetry);
Enlightenment is not suitable for us,
And we got it from him
Pretense, nothing more.
So, she was called Tatyana.
Not your sister's beauty,
Nor the freshness of her ruddy
She wouldn't attract anyone's attention.
Dick, sad, silent,
Like a forest deer, timid,
She is in her own family
The girl seemed like a stranger.
She didn't know how to caress
To your father, nor to your mother;
Child herself, in a crowd of children
I didn’t want to play or jump
And often alone all day
She sat silently by the window.
Thoughtfulness, her friend
From the most lullabies of days,
The flow of rural leisure
Decorated her with dreams.
Her pampered fingers
They didn't know needles; leaning on the hoop,
She has a silk pattern
Didn't bring the canvas to life.
A sign of the desire to rule,
With an obedient doll child
Prepared in jest
For decency, law of light,
And it’s important to repeat to her
Lessons from your mother.
But dolls even in these years
Tatyana didn’t take it in her hands;
About city news, about fashion
I didn’t have any conversations with her.
And there were children's pranks
Alien to her: scary stories
In winter in the dark of nights
They captivated her heart more.
When did the nanny collect
For Olga on a wide meadow
All her little friends,
She didn't play with burners,
She was bored and the ringing laughter,
And the noise of their windy pleasures.
She loved on the balcony
Warn the dawn,
When on a pale sky
The round dance of the stars disappears,
And quietly the edge of the earth brightens,
And, the harbinger of the morning, the wind blows,
And the day gradually rises.
In winter, when the night shadow
Has half the world's share,
And share in idle silence,
Under the foggy moon,
The lazy East rests,
Awakened at the usual hour
She got up by candlelight.
She liked novels early on;
They replaced everything for her;
She fell in love with deceptions
And Richardson and Russo.
Her father was a kind fellow,
Belated in the past century;
But I saw no harm in the books;
He never reads
I considered them an empty toy
And didn't care
What is my daughter's secret volume?
I dozed under my pillow until morning.
His wife was herself
Richardson is crazy.
She loved Richardson
Not because I read it
Not because Grandison
She preferred Lovelace Grandison and Lovelace, heroes of two glorious novels.;
But in the old days, Princess Alina,
Her Moscow cousin,
She often told her about them.
There was still a groom at that time
Her husband, but in captivity;
She sighed about something else
Who with heart and mind
She liked it much more:
This Grandison was a nice dandy,
Player and Guard Sgt.
Like him, she was dressed
Always in fashion and becoming;
But without asking her advice,
The girl was taken to the crown.
And, to dispel her grief,
The wise husband left soon
To her village, where she is
God knows who I'm surrounded by
I tore and cried at first,
I almost divorced my husband;
Then I took up housekeeping,
I got used to it and was satisfied.
This habit has been given to us from above:
She is a replacement for happiness Si j'avais la folie de croire encore au bonheur, je le chercherais dans l'habitude (Chateaubriand) If I had the temerity to still believe in happiness, I would look for it in habit (French)..
Shark like the old Selina
And finally updated
There is cotton wool on the robe and cap.
But her husband loved her heartily,
Was not part of her plans
I believed her in everything blithely,
And he ate and drank in his dressing gown;
His life rolled on calmly;
In the evening I sometimes came together
A good family of neighbors,
Unceremonious friends
And push, and slander,
And laugh about something.
Time passes; meanwhile
They will order Olga to prepare tea,
There's dinner, it's time to sleep there,
And the guests are coming from the yard.
They kept life peaceful
Habits of a dear old man;
At their Shrovetide
There were Russian pancakes;
Twice a year they fasted;
Loved the round swing
Podblyudny songs, round dance;
On Trinity Day, when people
Yawning, he listens to the prayer service,
Touchingly on the beam of dawn
Poor Yorick! – Hamlet’s exclamation over the jester’s skull. (See Shakespeare and Sterne.)- he said sadly, -He held me in his arms.
How often did I play as a child?
His Ochakov medal!
He read Olga for me,
He said: Will I wait for the day?..”
And, full of sincere sadness,
Vladimir immediately drew
His funeral madrigal.
And there is also a sad inscription
Father and mother, in tears,
He honored the patriarchal ashes...
Alas! on the reins of life
Instant generational harvest
By the secret will of providence,
They rise, mature and fall;
Others are following them...
So our windy tribe
Growing, worried, seething
And he presses towards the grave of his great-grandfathers.
Our time will come, our time will come,
And our grandchildren in good time
They will push us out of the world too!
For now, revel in it,
Have an easy life, friends!
I understand her insignificance
And I am little attached to her;
I closed my eyelids for ghosts;
But distant hopes
Sometimes the heart is disturbed:
Without an inconspicuous trace
I would be sad to leave the world.
I live and write not for praise;
But I think I would like
Glorify your sad lot,
So that about me, like a faithful friend,
I remembered at least a single sound.
And he will touch someone's heart;
And, preserved by fate,
Perhaps it won't drown in Lethe
A stanza composed by me;
Perhaps (a flattering hope!)
The future ignorant will point out
To my illustrious portrait
And he says: he was a poet!
Please accept my thanks
Fan of peaceful aonides,
O you, whose memory will preserve
My flying creations
Whose benevolent hand
He'll ruffle the old man's laurels!
