Pushkin's Eugene Onegin. Book III. Stanzas 36-9.

PUSHKIN'S POEMS

This is the web site of Pushkin's poems

EUGENE ONEGIN

(In this edition he is called Yevgeny Onegin).

For ease of access the text is printed in image format, to avoid the problems of decoding Russian script. This unfortunately results in some loss of clarity. Three or four stanzas are printed on each page, with the English translation alongside.

BOOK III Stanzas 36-9.

XXXVI

The day wore on, but brought no reply ;
Another followed, but still no sign.
Pale as a shadow, dressed from the dawn,
Tatyana waits: when will this all end?
Then Olga's admirer came riding by.
"Tell me now, where is your friend?"
The old dame of the house addressed him.
"He seems to have given us the miss."
Tatyana blushed and trembled in suspension.
"He said that he would visit you today,"
Said Lensky to the old dear in reply,
"But evidently the post caused some delay."
Tatyana was downcast at what she heard.
For she sensed a reproach in every word.

XXXVII

Dusk fell, and on the table, gleaming,
Stood the hissing samovar for the evening,
The Chinese teapot stood on it warming,
And underneath the steam was swirling.
Poured out by Olga's steady hand
In a dark stream, into each cup,
The fragrant tea ran out like sand,
And with cream a young boy topped it up.
Tatyana stood before the window,
Breathing upon the frozen pane,
So pensive she was, my pet, my sparrow,
And with her finger, light as rain,
Wrote on the glass (which was all misty)
The cherished monogram, O and E.

XXXVIII

But all the time her heart was aching,
Her languid eyes were full of tears.
Suddenly hooves!… Her blood froze.
Nearer they came! They are galloping!
Yevgeny is here! "Ah!" Swift as a shadow
Tatyana hastens to another entrance,
From porch, to yard, to garden in one go,
She flies, she flies, and a backward glance
She dare not make. In a flash she passes,
Flowerbeds, pathways, pool and copse,
An alley to the lake, and then traverses
A lilac grove, some of which she breaks,
Over the borders to the stream she runs
And panting, gasping, to the bench she comes

XXXIX

And falls…
"He's here! Ah me! Yevgeny!
Oh God! Oh God! What must he think of me!"
Her heart, full of the deepest agony
Preserves still a dark dream of desire.
She trembles, and she burns with fire,
And waits: Is this him? But she does not hear
The servant girls along the garden
Who pick the raspberries from the bushes
And sing the customary choruses
(Commanded by their master, to
Prevent his fruit being slyly eaten,
Devoured by their cunning lips,
Instead, with song being occupied:
A scheme by rural wit devised).

Lermontov

Other Pushkin

Eugene Onegin Book I

Book II

Book III

Book IV

Book V

BookVI

BookVII

BookVIII

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		XXXVI The day wore on, but brought no reply ; Another followed, but still no sign. Pale as a shadow, dressed from the dawn, Tatyana waits: when will this all end? Then Olga's admirer came riding by. "Tell me now, where is your friend?" The old dame of the house addressed him. "He seems to have given us the miss." Tatyana blushed and trembled in suspension. "He said that he would visit you today," Said Lensky to the old dear in reply, "But evidently the post caused some delay." Tatyana was downcast at what she heard. For she sensed a reproach in every word.
		XXXVII Dusk fell, and on the table, gleaming, Stood the hissing samovar for the evening, The Chinese teapot stood on it warming, And underneath the steam was swirling. Poured out by Olga's steady hand In a dark stream, into each cup, The fragrant tea ran out like sand, And with cream a young boy topped it up. Tatyana stood before the window, Breathing upon the frozen pane, So pensive she was, my pet, my sparrow, And with her finger, light as rain, Wrote on the glass (which was all misty) The cherished monogram, O and E.
		XXXVIII But all the time her heart was aching, Her languid eyes were full of tears. Suddenly hooves!… Her blood froze. Nearer they came! They are galloping! Yevgeny is here! "Ah!" Swift as a shadow Tatyana hastens to another entrance, From porch, to yard, to garden in one go, She flies, she flies, and a backward glance She dare not make. In a flash she passes, Flowerbeds, pathways, pool and copse, An alley to the lake, and then traverses A lilac grove, some of which she breaks, Over the borders to the stream she runs And panting, gasping, to the bench she comes
		XXXIX And falls… "He's here! Ah me! Yevgeny! Oh God! Oh God! What must he think of me!" Her heart, full of the deepest agony Preserves still a dark dream of desire. She trembles, and she burns with fire, And waits: Is this him? But she does not hear The servant girls along the garden Who pick the raspberries from the bushes And sing the customary choruses (Commanded by their master, to Prevent his fruit being slyly eaten, Devoured by their cunning lips, Instead, with song being occupied: A scheme by rural wit devised).