Pushkin's Eugene Onegin. The official web site. Book IV. Stanzas 48-51.

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 IV Stanzas 48 - 51.

XLVIII

«Well, how are the neighbours? How's Tatyana?
And your lively Olga, how is she?» -
«Give me another glass, a finger…
Enough, old chap… All the family
Are well, and send their greetings to you.
But Olga, her shoulders especially
Her neck, her bosom, all that beauty,
And what a spirit! … Some time soon
To them we'll go. You can favour them;
Or else, my friend, yourself be judge,
Twice you paid a visit, afterwards
They did not even glimpse your nose.
But look… I'm a blockhead and a freak!
You're invited there this coming week.» -

XLIX

«Me?» - «Yes, For Tatyana's name day,
The Saturday. Olga and Ma
Said to invite you, there's no reason why
You need to refuse their invitation.» -
«But what a heap of plebs there'll be,
And rabble, and riff-raff for company…» -
«Of course not, none like that, I'm sure!
Who'll be there? Well, their family.
Let's go. Please do me the favour, !
What do you say?» - «Alright.» - «What a brick you are!»
And with these words he drained his glass,
A thank offering to his kindly neighbour,
Then once more he beguiled his mind
With Olga's charms: for love is blind!

L

How happy he was. In two weeks time
The appointed wedding day was set.
The secrets of the marriage bed ,
And love's most sweet and glorious crown
With its delights awaited him.
For Hymen's troubles and alarms,
A long succession of cold yawns,
Did not arise even in his dreams.
While we, the foes of Hymen's charms
See only in domesticity
Row upon row of tedious scenes,
A novel after Lafontaine…
But simple Lensky, so happily sated,
Was for such a life alone created.

LI

He was loved… or at the very least,
He believed so, and was therefore happy.
A thousand times blest is he who believes,
Who calming the cold fears of his mind
Rests in a state of bliss serenely,
Like a drunken traveller at an inn,
Or (less harshly) like a butterfly
Drinking the liquor of a springtime flower;
But piteous is he, who foresees all,
Whose head never loses self control,
For whom all words, all motivations
Are hateful in their transformations,
Whose heart experience has made chill,
Yet forbids him to lose himself at will.

Lermontov

Other Pushkin

Eugene Onegin Book I

Book II

Book III

Book IV

Book IV

Book V

BookVI

BookVII

BookVIII

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		XLVIII «Well, how are the neighbours? How's Tatyana? And your lively Olga, how is she?» - «Give me another glass, a finger… Enough, old chap… All the family Are well, and send their greetings to you. But Olga, her shoulders especially Her neck, her bosom, all that beauty, And what a spirit! … Some time soon To them we'll go. You can favour them; Or else, my friend, yourself be judge, Twice you paid a visit, afterwards They did not even glimpse your nose. But look… I'm a blockhead and a freak! You're invited there this coming week.» -
		XLIX «Me?» - «Yes, For Tatyana's name day, The Saturday. Olga and Ma Said to invite you, there's no reason why You need to refuse their invitation.» - «But what a heap of plebs there'll be, And rabble, and riff-raff for company…» - «Of course not, none like that, I'm sure! Who'll be there? Well, their family. Let's go. Please do me the favour, ! What do you say?» - «Alright.» - «What a brick you are!» And with these words he drained his glass, A thank offering to his kindly neighbour, Then once more he beguiled his mind With Olga's charms: for love is blind!
		L How happy he was. In two weeks time The appointed wedding day was set. The secrets of the marriage bed , And love's most sweet and glorious crown With its delights awaited him. For Hymen's troubles and alarms, A long succession of cold yawns, Did not arise even in his dreams. While we, the foes of Hymen's charms See only in domesticity Row upon row of tedious scenes, A novel after Lafontaine… But simple Lensky, so happily sated, Was for such a life alone created.
		LI He was loved… or at the very least, He believed so, and was therefore happy. A thousand times blest is he who believes, Who calming the cold fears of his mind Rests in a state of bliss serenely, Like a drunken traveller at an inn, Or (less harshly) like a butterfly Drinking the liquor of a springtime flower; But piteous is he, who foresees all, Whose head never loses self control, For whom all words, all motivations Are hateful in their transformations, Whose heart experience has made chill, Yet forbids him to lose himself at will.