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(In this edition he is called Yevgeny Onegin).


BOOK II    Stanzas 7-9.


От хладного разврата света
Еще увянуть не успев,
Его душа была согрета
Приветом друга, лаской дев.
Он сердцем милый был невежда,
Его лелеяла надежда,
И мира новый блеск и шум
Еще пленяли юный ум.
Он забавлял мечтою сладкой
Сомненья сердца своего;
Цель жизни нашей для него
Была заманчивой загадкой,
Над ней он голову ломал
И чудеса подозревал.



Through the world's indifferent wickedness
His ample spirit still had not withered,
His heart was warmed, his soul impressed
By a friendly greeting, or a girl's caress.
In his heart he was a simple innocent
Whom hope had pampered and endeared
And the world's new shine and merriment
Still entranced and flattered his young mind.
He often amused with sweetest dreams
The doubts that lay buried in his soul;
The aim of life for him, it seems,
Was a riddle, of alluring meaning.
He racked his brain about these puzzles,
And suspected hidden miracles.



Он верил, что душа родная
Соединиться с ним должна,
Что, безотрадно изнывая,
Его вседневно ждет она;
Он верил, что друзья готовы
За честь его принять оковы,
И что не дрогнет их рука
Разбить сосуд клеветника;
Что есть избранные судьбами,
Людей священные друзья;
Что их бессмертная семья
Неотразимыми лучами,
Когда-нибудь, нас озарит
И мир блаженством одарит.




He believed that somewhere a kindred soul
Must join with his and make it whole,
That, pining for him gloomily
It waited for him eternally;
He believed also that many friends
To defend his honour would accept chains,
And that their hands, true and unshaken
Would shatter the vessel of calumny;
And that there are, chosen by fate
Most holy friends of the human race; 
That their immortal family 
In time to come with radiant fire
Will all illuminate and bless 
And fill the world with their caress.  




Негодованье, сожаленье,
Ко благу чистая любовь
И славы сладкое мученье
В нем рано волновали кровь.
Он с лирой странствовал на свете;
Под небом Шиллера и Гете
Их поэтическим огнем
Душа воспламенилаcь в нем.
И Муз возвышенных искусства,
Счастливец, он не постыдил;
Он в песнях гордо сохранил
Всегда возвышенные чувства,
Порывы девственной мечты
И прелесть важной простоты.

Compassion and high indignation,
And a pure love for what is good,
And for fame the sweet torture of ambition
Quite early on burned in his blood.
With his lyre he wandered the world over
Under skies of Goethe and of Schiller.
And with their poetic flame
His soul was fired and imbued.
The art of the most lofty muses,
Being fortunate, he never put to shame:
He proudly kept alive in song
Feelings that always were exalted,
Outbursts of pure intensity,
And the charm of solemn simplicity

Lermontov Other Pushkin Onegin Book I Book II Book III Book IV Book V BookVI BookVII BookVIII Next stanzas Previous stanzas
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