Eugene Onegin

From early youth she read romances,
And novels set her heart aglow;
She loved the fictions and the fancies
Of Richardson and of Rousseau.

Her husband at the time was still
Her fiancé—against her will!
For she, in spite of family feeling,
Had someone else for whom she pined—
A man whose heart and soul and mind
She found a great deal more appealing;
This Grandison was fashion’s pet,
A gambler and a guards cadet.

‘Your Olga’s look is cold and dead,
As in some dull, Van Dyck madonna;
So round and fair of face is she,
She’s like that stupid moon you see,
Up in that stupid sky you honour.’
Vladimir gave a curt reply
And let the conversation die.

How oft have tearful poets chances
To read their works before the glances
Of those they love? Good sense declares
That no reward on earth compares.

Oh, blest is he who lives believing,
Who takes cold intellect for naught,
Who rests within the heart’s sweet places
As does a drunk in sleep’s embraces,
Or as, more tenderly I’d say,
A butterfly in blooms of May;
But wretched he who’s too far-sighted,
Whose head is never fancy-stirred,
Who hates all gestures, each warm word,
As sentiments to be derided,
Whose heart… experience has cooled
And barred from being loved … or fooled!

But no, she can’t. What explanation? …
Well, she’s just promised his good friend
The next dance too. In God’s creation!
What’s this he hears? Could she intend? …
Can this be real? Scarce more than swaddler—
And turned coquette! A fickle toddler!
Already has she mastered guile,
Already learned to cheat and smile!
The blow has left poor Lensky shattered;
And cursing woman’s crooked course,
He leaves abruptly, calls for horse,
And gallops off. Now nothing mattered—
A brace of pistols and a shot
Shall instantly decide his lot.

‘What can I do? Tatyana’s grown,’
Dame Larin muttered with a moan.
‘Her younger sister married neatly;
It’s time that she were settled too,
I swear I don’t know what to do;
She turns all offers down completely,
Just says: “I can’t”, then broods away,
And wanders through those woods all day.’