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In spirit, he abandons me To all my plaintive misery. Who taught her this intense emotion, This heartfelt speech, gave the notion, So charming and so perilous?

How shall I add to my confession? Yet had compassion a part to play In your thoughts, you would wait, And not abandon me to fate.

At first I wished to stay quite silent, Thus, you never would have heard Of shame or misery, one word. Why did you come, to disturb us?

Lost in our rural solitude? I might have viewed My world with equanimity, This fever born of youth once past, Found another, served at last, As wife and mother, faithfully.

It was no phantom! Is it not true? I often heard you: In quiet, did you not speak to me, In works of charity, all through The hours of anguished prayer I knew, When my head ached so painfully?

And now, at this very moment, Is it not you, this heaven-sent Vision, standing by my bed, Deep, in the translucent night To bring, with love and solace bright, Fresh hope on which my heart is fed?

Are you then my guardian angel, Or my tempter, force of evil: Dispel my doubts, I am blind, Perhaps this is all vanity, The fancies of a foolish mind, Mine another destiny….

So be it! My fate now lies In your hands, my direction, The tears flow from my eyes, I beseech your protection… Conceive it.

I await you: one look turned Towards me, wake hope in my heart, Or make this painful dream depart Speak the reproach I have earned!

I tremble to re-read…. Her head sinks, the stars grow older, Her night-dress slips from her shoulder, Soon the dawn will bring new light, The moon no longer shines as bright, The radiance dies: there the vale Shines with mist.

Here a stream Is turned to silver. Morning comes: the dark is done, To my Tatyana, all is one. Last night what a fright you gave me!

Go now, take this note of mine. The day slips past, with no reply, Another day, and still no sign, Dressed at dawn, she gives a sigh, A shadow, pale.

Ah, for one line! Dusk falls, the samovar is gleaming Adorns the table, boiling hot, It glows and hisses, softly steaming, Vapour wreathes the china pot.

Her heartache feels like some disease, Her eyes are clouded, filled with tears, The sound of hooves! Sent to freeze Her. Galloping, closer it appears.

Oh God, what must he think of me? She trembles, burning, in fear: Is this him, now? She cannot hear. Sing a song, unbind your hair, A song we love, a merry song, And draw to us a handsome lad, To our dance, to our choir.

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Event related, ticket cancellation Message organizer. Send to holst Back Send. But her husband loved her heart, In its undertaking not included, Around her believed blithely, And he in a bathrobe eating and drinking; His life was rolling; In the evening sometimes converge Neighbors friendly, unbending friends, And tighter, and pozloslovit, And to joke about.

Time passes; meanwhile Olga told to prepare tea, there's dinner, there's time to sleep, And the guests are going to court. They were stored in a peaceful life Habits cute antiques; They have fat on Shrovetide Russian pancakes were carried out; Twice a year they fasted; Loved swing round, Podblyudny songs, roundelay; On the day of Pentecost, when the people, yawning, He listens to prayers, Sweetly on the beam dawn They dropped three tears; They kvas as the air needed, And at the table have guests Worn dishes on ranks.

And so they are both getting older. And finally opened Before the door of the sepulcher spouse, And he hast taken a new crown.

He died an hour before dinner, Mourned his neighbor, Children and faithful wife Chistoserdechney, than other. His hearth returned, Vladimir Lensky visited Sauceda humble monument, And sigh he spent ash; For a long time the heart was sad.

How often as a child, I played His medal for Ochakovo! He wanted Olga marry me, He said: Whether day wait?..

And there is a sad sign Father and mother, in tears, He honored ashes of So our tribe windy grows, worried, boiling And the coffin ancestors thronging.

Meanwhile drunk with it, This easy life, friends! Her feeble mind And not only to her, I tied; For ghosts, I closed eyelids; But the long-term expectations Sometimes troubled heart: No trace neprimetnogo I'd be upset to leave the world.

Married, I write not to praise; But I would, it seems, I wanted The sad fate its glory, To me, as a true friend, He recalled even a single sound.

And someone's heart it touches; AND, saved fate, May be, In the summer do not sink stanza, term me; May be lestnaya hope!

Accept my thanks, A fan peaceful Aoide, Oh you, whose memory will retain My volatile creations, Whose gracious hand Pat laurels old man!

Oh, these poets! Have mercy! Imagine me ". They willingly accept us. Let's go. Rite known treats: Carry on a plate jam, Put on the table voschanoy Jug water lingonberry.

They are expensive very brief Home fly at full speed [17]. Now overheard furtive Heroes of our conversation: - Well, Onegin? However, in the already dark; hurry!

What a stupid place! And by the way: Larina easy, But a very nice old lady; I'm afraid: cowberry water I have not done harm to b.

Tell: that Tatiana? In terms Olga life there. Vladimir dryly replied And after all the way in silence. Meanwhile Onegin phenomenon Larin made In all a great impression And all the neighbors amused.

Went guess for guess. All began to interpret furtively, Tell jokes, judge not without sin, Tatiana prochit groom; Some even claimed, What does a wedding sweeter, But then stopped, What fashion rings did not get.

About Lena wedding for a long time They have already been decided. Tatiana listened with disappointment such gossip; but secretly With inexplicable joy Involuntarily I thought about; And in the heart of the thought sank; It's time has come, she fell in love.

Thus fallen into the ground grain Spring fire animated. It has long been her imagination, Burning languor and longing, Alkali fatal food; It has long been a heartfelt languor Closely to her chest Mladen; Soul waited And waited Her eyes; She said: it's him!

Now and days and nights, And hot lonely dream, All is full of them; cute maiden all Nonstop magic power Insists on it.

In despair submerged, Guests are not listening to it And curse their leisure, Their unexpected arrival And the duration of sitting. Now how attentively she Reads sweet romance, What charm alive Drinks seductive deception!

His beloved creators, Clarice, Yulia, Delphine, Tatyana in the silence of the forests One wanders with a dangerous book, She seeks and finds it Her secret fire, their dreams, heart completeness fruits, sighs and, assign themselves Alien delight, someone else's sadness, In oblivion heart murmurs Letter to beloved hero But our hero, who would neither was he, Oh right it was not Grandison.

His style is an important way to the spirit, Happened, fiery creator We are your hero How to paragon. He'd give to his favorite, Always unjustly persecuted, sensitive soul, wisely And attractive face.

Feeding the heat of pure passion, Always enthusiastic hero He was ready to sacrifice himself, And at the end of the last part of vice was always punished, Good was decent wreath.

And now all minds in the mist, The moral of the dream brings to us, Vice polite - and the novel, And there too he triumphs.

Lord Byron whim successful Clothed in dull romance And hopeless egoism. My friends, tell what all this? May be, by heaven, I cease to be a poet, I dwell in a new demon, AND, Febovy defying threats, I stoop to humble prose; Then the novel the old way It takes my cheerful sunset.

Do not torment secret villainy I shall depict in that, But you simply retell Legends of Russian family, Dreams of love Yes, our manners of antiquity.

Retell simple speech Father or uncle-old man, Children prearranged meeting The old limes, in rucheyka; Miserable jealousy torment, separation, tears of reconciliation, quarreled again, and finally I will lead them down the aisle I remember the speech of passionate bliss, The words of yearning love, That in the last days At the feet of the beautiful mistress I come into the language, Of whom I am now out of the habit.

Tatyana, dear Tatiana! Are you now I pour tears; You're in the hands of the tyrant fashion I do give my destiny. Tosca love Tatiana drives, And the garden is it sad, And suddenly motionless eyes tend, And laziness her further step.

There will come a night; moon passes Patrol tour across the vault of heaven, And the nightingale in trees Starts sounding tunes.

Tatiana does not sleep in the dark And quietly with the nurse says:. Open the window and come sit by me ".

I, happened, Stored in the memory is not enough vintage byley, tall tales About evil spirits and about girls; And now all my dark, Tanya: I knew, the forgotten.

Yes, Came a series of thin! In the summer We have not heard about love; And that would be driven from light My deceased mother in law.

My Vanya I was younger, my light, And I was thirteen years old. Two weeks went matchmaker For my home, and finally Bless me father.

I wept with fear, Mne s Place Hair unfolding Yes, with the singing of the church led. And we put in someone else's family You're not listening to me What do you want, ask Give okroplyu Holy water, You all burn I love ".

Meanwhile the moon was shining And languid light lit up Tatiana's pale beauty, And his hair loose, And drops of tears, and on the bench Before the young heroine, With a handkerchief on his head gray, An old woman in a long quilted jacket; Still dormant in silence When inspiring moon.

And the heart was worn away Tatyana, looking at the moon Suddenly a thought in her mind was born And now she was alone. Everything is quiet. It shines the moon.

Oblokotyas, Tatiana writes, And Eugene's mind, And thoughtless letter Love is an innocent virgin breathes. I knew inaccessible beauties, cold, net, like winter, deadliness, incorruptible, Incomprehensible to the mind; I marveled at their arrogance fashion, Their natural virtues, AND, I confess, of them fled, AND, crease, I read with horror Over their eyebrows hell inscription: Abandon hope all [20].

To inspire love for them trouble, Scare makes them well. May be, on the banks of the Neva These will give you seen.

Among the fans of obedient I have seen other prichudnits, proud indifferent For passionate sighs and praise. And what I have found with amazement?

They, stern commandment of Scaring timid love, She knew how to draw again At least regret, At least the sound of speech Sometimes it seemed sweeter, And gullible Blinded Again young lover He ran for a cute vanity.

Why should we think Tatyana guiltier? For this L, that sweet simplicity She does not know deceit And he believes elected dream? For this L, he loves without art, Obedient attraction feelings, With so trusting it, That is endowed by heaven rebellious imagination, The mind and the will of living, And wayward head, And the flaming heart and tender?

Shall not forgive her You levity passions? Coquette judge coolly, Tatiana loves not joking And certainly betrayed love, how sweet child. Do not say it: Deferred - Love the price we multiply, Return to the Network Head; First vanity we'll get Hope, there perplexity heart to ache, and then Revnivym revive ognem; And that, missing Delights, Slave shackles of cunning Hourly ready escape.

Even foresee difficulty: Native land to save the honor of, I'll have, sure, Tatyana's letter to translate. It in Russian poorly known, Our magazines do not read And expresses with difficulty In the language of his native, so, I wrote in French What to do!

I repeat again: Hitherto ladies love Not izyasnyalasya in Russian, Hitherto proud our language By postal prose.

I know: ladies want to make Read in Russian. Right, fear! Can they imagine With the "well-intentioned" [21] in the hands!

I shlyus you, my poets? Do not give me a god to come together at the ball Ile at the junction on the porch With a seminarian in the yellow chalet Ile Academician in a cap!

Like rosy lips without a smile, Without grammatical errors I do not like Russian speech. May be, my trouble, Beauties of new generation, Magazines heeding the pleading voice, By teaching us grammar; Poems will be put into use; But I I'll be faithful to the old days.

Wrong, careless prattle, Inaccurate reprimand speeches Still heart palpitations Produce in my breast; Repent in me no power, I will be nice Gallicisms, As the last youth sins, As Bogdanovich poetry.

I've got to go My beautiful letter; I gave the word, and well? I know: gentle guys The pen is not in vogue these days,.

Singer Feasts and languorous sadness [22], If still you were with me, I would be impolite request you disturb, my dear: That on the magical tunes You moved the passionate maiden In foreign language words.

But in the midst of rocks sad, Unaccustomed heart of praise, One, under the Finnish sky, He wanders, and his soul Not hear my grief.

Tatiana's letter before me; His I religiously shore, I read with a secret longing And I can not read a lot. Who taught her and the tenderness, And words amiable negligence?

Who taught her touching nonsense, Mad heart conversation, And addictive and harmful? I can not understand. But here Incomplete, poor translation, With a live picture of a list of pale Or play Freyshits Fingers timid students:.

I write to you - what more? What can I say? Now, I know, in your will I punish contempt. At first I wanted to be silent; trust: my shame You would've never learned, If only I had the hope though rarely, at least once a week In our village to see you, Just to hear your voice, You say a word, and than all thinking, think of one Both day and night until we meet again.

But, say, you unsociable; In the backwoods, in the village all you're bored, But we Why should you visit us? In the wilderness of forgotten villages covering I never knew you used, I did not know bitter torment.

Soul inexperienced excitement Smiriv with time how to know? No, anyone in the world I would not give my heart I! That Vyshny destined council It will sky: I'm your; My whole life was a pledge Goodbye faithful to you; I know, God sent you to me, To the grave you are my guardian You came to me in dreams Invisible, you did was really nice, Your wonderful sight and suffered me, In your voice heard soul Long time no You almost went, I instantly recognized, All obomlela, blazed And in my thoughts rumor: here it is!

Is it not true? I heard you: You spoke to me in the silence, When I helped the poor Or prayer charmed Fermented longing soul?

And at that very moment Did you not, sweet vision, The clear dark flashed, He looked down silently to the head? You're not the only weapon, with joy and love, I whispered words of hope?

May be, it's all empty, Cheating inexperienced soul! And destined quite different But so be it! I'm waiting for you: single glance Hope heart quicken Or sleep heavy Pererva, Alas, deserved reproach!

It is terrible to count Shame and fear froze But I guarantee your honor, And feel free to commit himself to her Tatiana then sigh, the ohnet; The letter trembles in her hand; Pink wafer dries On inflammation of the tongue.

Her head leaned to the shoulder, Shirt light down With her charming shoulder But that's really moonbeam radiance is extinguished.

Here morning: We stood all long, My Tatiana still. She does not notice dawn, He is sitting with bowed head And in the letter does not presses His engraved print.

But, unlocking the door softly, Already she Filipevna gray It brings a tray of tea. Oh my Early bird! Vechor much as I was afraid!

Yes, thank God, you healthy! Tosca night and no trace, Your face like a poppy ". But you see To neighbors I now became stupid.

All around there are a lot of neighbors; Where them to me and countless ". What I need in your mind? You see, thing about the letter By Onegin.

Do not be angry, my soul, You know, I do not understand What are you pale again? Send your grandchildren. But the day passed, and no answer.

Holguin came admirer. Tatyana, flashing, shook. Spilled Olga's hand, Cups dark current The fragrant tea was, And the cream of the boy filed; Tatiana stood before the window, On the cool glass breathing, thinking, my soul, Lovely finger wrote On the glass of cloudy Oh yes coveted Monogram E.

And by the time her soul was aching, And the tears was full of languid eyes. The other holds cannon!.. Here's a closer! AND, gasping for breath, on the bench.

I fell Oh my God! But can not hear. In the garden of the maids, on the ridges, Sbiralsya berry bushes In chorus sang Order, based on what, To lord berries secretly The mouth does not want lukavye And singing were employed: Undertaking rural acuity!

Maid, beauty, darling, behold, Raffle girls, Razgulay, cute! Do not go podslushivaty ditties, Do not go to spy our games girly. They sing, and, with negligence Listening to their voices ringing, Impatiently she, To heart palpitations it subsided, To have passed Glowing cheeks.

But in Persia the same flutter, And do not pass cheeks glow, but brighter, only burns brighter So poor butterfly and shine And beating rainbow wing, Captured school mischievous; So bunny in winter wheat trembles, Suddenly seeing from afar The bushes pripadshego arrow.

But finally she sighed And he got up from his bench; went, but only turned The alley, in front of her, glittering gaze, Eugene It should be like a menacing shadow of, AND, as the fire burned, stop it.

But the consequences of the unexpected meeting Today, dear friends, Recount can not I; I should, after a long speech And take a walk and relax: Finish after sometime.

The less we love a woman, The better she likes us And yet it rather ruin Amid the seductive networks. Who is not bored hypocrite, Various repeat one, Important to try to assure that, What everyone is convinced for a long time, All the same to hear objections, destroy predrassuzhdenya, Which was not and is not The girl was thirteen!

Who will not tire threats, supplications, oath, imaginary fear, Notes on six sheets, deceptions, gossip, rings, tears, supervisions aunts, mothers And friendship oppressive husbands!

So what exactly my thought Eugene. He was the first of her youth He was a victim of violent delusions And unbridled passions. Living habits spoiled, One at a time fascinated, Frustrated other, Desire slowly tormented, Tormented and windy success, Listening in noise and in silence Murmurs eternal soul, Yawn suppressing laughter: That's how he killed eight, The loss of life the best color.

The beauties he really fell in love, A trailing somehow; Denied - instantly comforted; Change - I was glad to have a rest. He sought them without rapture, A leave without regret, Slightly remembering their love and anger.

So exactly indifferent guest On whist evening arrives, sits; game ended: He's leaving the yard, Calmly asleep at home And he did not know in the morning, Where to go at evening.

May be, ancient ardor feelings They seized a moment; But he did not want to cheat Trusting souls of the innocent. Now we have flights to the garden, Where she met with him Tatiana.

Two minutes they were silent, But it came Onegin and rumors: "You wrote to me, Do not deny it. I've read Soul trusting confessions, Innocent outpouring of love; Me your sincerity sweet; She brought excitement Silenced for a long time feeling; But praise you I do not want; I will repay you for it Recognition is also without art; Take my confession: Himself on the court I will give it.

Whenever life around the home I wanted to limit the; When I used to be a father, spouse Nice lot commanded; When used familial picture I was captivated by even a single moment, — Then, true b, except you one The bride was not looking for another.

I will say without sparkles madrigal: When he had found my old ideal, I, true b, You have chosen one The girlfriend of my sad days, All that is beautiful in pledge, And I would have been happy as he could!

But I'm not made for happiness; Alien to him my soul; In vain your perfection: They did not worthy of me. I, no matter how much you would love, accustomed, immediately stop loving; begin to cry: your tears Not touched my heart, And will only enrage him.

What could be worse than in the world Families, where the poor wife Sad about the unworthy husband, Day and night one; Where boring husband, she knew the price fate, however, cursing , always furrowed, silent, Angry and cold-jealous!

That is, I. And that l sought you clean, fiery soul, When with such ease, With such a mind me writing? Shall you a lot Strictly appointed destiny?

Dreams and years of no return; I not updated my soul I love you like a brother AND, may be, even sweeter. Listen Well me without anger: It replaces not just mladaya Maid Light dream dreams; So sapling my sheets It varies with each spring.

So one can see the sky destined. Love you back: but… Learn to control themselves; Not just you, like me, will understand; For trouble inexperience leads ".

So Eugene preached. Through tears, seeing nothing, barely breathing, without objections, Tatiana listened to him. He held out his hand to her. It has rural freedom Its happy right, How and nadmennaya Moscow.

Will you agree, my reader, Very nice entered With our friend Tanya sad; Not for the first time, he immediately revealed Soul direct nobility, Although people nedobrohotstvo It is not spared anything: his enemies, his friends what, may be, same After him this way and that.

Enemies has everyone in the world, But save us from friends, Christ! Oh, these friends, friends! On them wonder I remembered.

Yes so. I euthanized blank, black dreams; I just noticed in brackets, That there is no contemptible slander, In the attic born liar And secular rabble emboldened, That there is no such absurdity, Nor epigrams areal, Which would be your friend with a smile, In the circle of decent people, Without any malice and austere, Do not mistake a hundred times repeated; But by the way, he is for you a mountain: He loves you like a native!

Let: may be, anything Now you know me, What do you mean it is native. Native people here what: We owe them caress, Be in love, sincere respect AND, according to the custom of the people, On Christmas visit them Or by mail to congratulate, To the rest of the year We do not think of us they But the love of gentle beauties Reliability of friendship and kinship: On her, and amid storms rebel You retain the right to.

Of course so. But the whirlwind of fashion, But the perversity of nature, But the opinion of the secular stream A cute floor, as down, easy.

To that and opinions wife For the virtuous wife Always have to be venerable; So your faithful friend It is suddenly keen: Love jokes Satan.

Who loves? Who to believe? Who will not change us one? Who all things, all the speeches Merit Helpfully to our yardstick? Who slanders about us not sow?

Who we carefully nurture? To our sin does not matter? Who would not get bored ever? Ghost vain seeker, Work naprasno not lose, Love yourself, Hon my reader!

Subject worthy: nothing Lyubezney, right, he is not here. What was the result of good-bye? Alas, It is not difficult to guess!

Love crazy suffering Not ceased to excite youth people, sadness greedy; No, Forest passion desolate Tatiana poor lit; Her bedside sleep runs; Health, life color and sweetness, Smile, virgin peace, lost all, that empty sound, And pales cute Tanya Mladost: So clothe the storm shadow Hardly a day is born.

Alas, Tatiana fade, Bledneet, goes out and says nothing! Nothing it does not take, Her heart does not move. It is important pump head, Neighbors shepchut limits a: It's time, it is time to marry her!..

It is necessary to me soon cheer imagination Picture of happy love. Hour by hour captive Bole Olga Kras young, Vladimir sweet captivity I indulged in full assurance of soul.

He was always with her. In it alone They sit in the dark two; They are in the garden, with hand hand, Sometimes a morning walk; And what? He sometimes reads Ole preachy novel, In which the author knows Bole nature, than Chateaubriand, Meanwhile, two, three pages empty nonsense, fables, Threatening heart virgins he misses, blushing.

Retire from all away, They are on the chessboard, Leaning on table, occasionally sit, deep in thought, And Lena pawns rook It takes its scattering.

Do go home, and home He occupied his Olga. Volatile album sheets Diligently she decorates: In them draws rural scenes, Tombstone, Kipridy temple, Or lire golubka Pen and inks slightly; Then the leaves recollection Below the signature of the other It leaves a gentle verse, Silent monument of dream, Instant thoughts long trail, Still the same after many years.

Of course, you do not just seen County girls album, That all girlfriends izmarali From the end, from start around. Here, spite spelling, Verses without measure, according to legend The sign of friendship made faithful, reduced, continued.

Annette; And on the last read: "Who loves you more, Let me continue to write ". Here you will certainly find Two hearts, torch and flowers; Here you will read is true oath In love to the grave; Any poet Army Here podmahnul poem villainous.

In this album, my friends, Admit, I am glad to write and, I am sure being a soul, That any my hard nonsense It deserves benevolent gaze And then, with an evil smile It becomes important to understand, Ile I could no lie.

So you, language inspired, At the heart of its gusts, Sing God knows whom, And a set of precious elegies Present once you The whole story of your fate.

Where to! As they wrote in a powerful years, As of old instituted AND, full, friend; does not it matter?

Fan of glory and freedom, In the excitement of his tumultuous thoughts, Vladimir and wrote odes to, Do not read them Olga. Whether Therefore, the case of tears Read in the eyes of their amiable his creations?

They say, What in the world do not have the above awards. And vpryam, Blessed are the humble lover, Reading your dreams The object of songs and love, Beauty pleasantly languid!

And what Onegin? I ask your patience: His busy all the day I will describe to you in detail. Onegin lived anchorite: At seven o'clock he got up in the summer And sends the light By running under the mountain river; Singer Gulnara imitating, This crossed the Hellespont, Then he drank his coffee, Bad sorting magazine, And dress Walking, reading, sleep deep, Forest shadow, gurgling streams, Downpour Belyanka chernookoy Mlada and fresh kiss, Check docile horse zealous, Lunch is quite whimsical, light wine bottle, solitude, silence: That's the life of a saint Onegin; And it is insensitive to her devotedly, red summer days The carefree bliss apart, Forgetting and the city, and friends, And boredom festive austere.

But our northern summer, A caricature of the southern winter, Flicker and no: It knows it, Although we do not want to admit.

Already the sky breathed autumn, Much less the sun shone, It became shorter day, Mysterious forest canopy With a sad noise bared, Fog lay on the field, Caravan of noisy geese I stretched to the south: pryblyzhalas Quite a boring time to; It was November so in court.

Dawn arises during cold mist; On nivah noise stopped work; With his hungry she-wolf It goes on the road wolf; his Pochuev, horse road Snore - and cautious traveler It is rushing up the hill at full speed; At dawn shepherd It does not drive so the cows out of the crib, And in the hour of midday in a circle They do not call him the horn; The hut singing, Virgo [23] spins, and, each winter nights, Bursting splinter in front of her.

And now crackling frost And silver through the fields The reader waits too rhyme rose; On, Now take it quickly!

Preppy fashion parquet shines river, ice dressed. In the middle of nowhere to do at this time? The village of the times Involuntarily bother eyes monotonous nudity.

To ride in the desert harsh? Sit under the roof desert, Read: here Pradt, W's. Do not want? Direct Onegin Child-Harold Far away in a pensive laziness: With sleep sits in a bath of ice, And after, home all day, One, immersed in calculations, Blunt cue armed, He billiards in two balls He plays with the morning.

Evening comes rustic: Billiards left, cue forgotten, The table is set in front of a fireplace, Eugene waiting: Here goes Lensky On the top three roan horses; Come dine hurry!

Veuve Clicquot or Moet blessed wine The frozen bottle for the poet On the table at once brought. It sparkles Ipokrenoy; [25] It's his game and foam The likeness of-this I was captivated: for him Last poor mites, happened, I gave.

Remember l, friends? His magic spray It gave rise to not a little stupid, And how many jokes and poems, and disputes, and gay dreams! By Ai I am no longer able to; Ai lover like brilliant, vetrenoy, alive, And wayward, and empty Notes, Bordeaux, like a friend, Which the, in sorrow and in trouble, comrade zavsegda, everywhere, Ready to be of service to us Ile quiet section Leisure.

Yes zdravstvuet Bordeaux, our friend! The fire was extinguished; only zoloyu Veiled coal gold; Barely perceptible jets Vieta pairs, and warmth Fireplace just breathe.

Smoke from pipes The pipe leaves. The evening is a haze I love the friendly bull And a friendly glass of wine sometimes that, that is named It is time between a wolf and a dog, And why, I do not see.

Now talk to friends:. Olga your frisky? The whole family Healthy; bow told. Brother, sweet, as the prettier Olga's shoulders, it chest!

What the soul! Yes, that's You to them for that week Zwaan. Olenka and mother told to call, and there is no reason You do not come to call. Who will be there?

Let's go, do smth. Well, well? He was cheerful. Through two weeks He was appointed to a happy life. And the mystery brachnyya bed, And sweet love wreath His enthusiasm expected.

Meanwhile, as we, enemies of hymen, The home life of the visible one A number of tedious paintings, A novel in the style of La Fontaine It was love Stokrat blessed, who betrayed the faith, Who, hladny mind to settle down, It rests in the heart bliss, Like a drunken stranger in the inn, Or, tenderly, like a moth, In the spring, glaring flower; But the miserable, who foresees everything, Whose not dizzy, Who all movements, all words In their translation hates, Whose heart experience chilled And forget forbidden!

That year, the autumn weather It was a long time in the yard, winters waited, I am waiting for nature. Snow fell only in January On the third night.

Peasant, triumphantly, On the wood-sledge update path; his horse, snow Pochuev, Trudges trot somehow; Reins fluffy blasting, Flies kibitka daring; The driver sits on the driver's seat The coat, in Red Sash.

Here runs serf boy, In skids planted bugs, Transforming itself into a horse; Varmint too frozen finger: He and painful and funny, A mother threatens him in the box But, may be, this kind The paintings do not attract: All of this is low nature; Fine not much here.

Warmed by inspiration God, Another poet luxurious syllable It depicts us the first snow And all shades of winter neg; [27] He will captivate, I'm sure that, Drawing in fiery verses Walking secret sleigh; But I do not intend to fight Neither with him for the time being, neither you, Singer finlyandki young!

According to the old triumph In their house the night: Maids from all over the yard About their ladies were wondering And they promised each year Muzhev military and trekking.

Tatiana believed devotion folksy antiques, And snam, and card divination, And the predictions of the moon. Her troubled signs; Mysteriously her all subjects Proclaiming something, Forebodings oppress the chest.

She trembled and turned pale. When will a falling star In a dark sky letela and discomfited, - then The confusion Tanya hurry, While the star is still rolling, Her heart's desire to whisper.

When it happens anywhere She met the black monk Ile fast hare between fields She ran across the road, Without knowing, that begin with the fear, Sad forebodings full, I am waiting unhappiness since she.

I found the secret of beauty And in the horror she: So our nature sotvoryla, By protivurechiyu inclined. Then came yuletide. That's the joy! Divination vetrenaya mladosty, Which nothing sorry, In front of which the distance of life lies bright, neobozrima; Gad old age through his glasses At the grave of its board, All lost irretrievably; And still: hope their Lying to his childish prattle.

Tatiana curious glance On wax looks sunk: He poured wonderful pattern Her something wonderful reads; of food, full of water, Output Ring succession of; And pulled out a ring to it Under the old days song: "There are some peasants still rich, Rowing silver shovel; To sing, so good And the glory!

Frosty night, sky is clear; Heavenly bodies marvelous choir It flows so quietly, so according to the Tatiana broad courtyard In an open dress out, Month suggests a mirror; But in the dark mirror one Shivers sad moon And I - at the thought of Svetlana I was scared - so be it With Tatiana us not to tell fortunes.

Tatiana belt silk He lifted, undressed and in bed Beds. Above it meanders Lel, A pod pillow puhovoy Maiden mirror lies.

Tatiana is sleeping. And dream a wonderful dream Tatiana. How to unfortunate separation, Tatiana murmurs in the brook; Not see anyone, one hand On the other side would have handed her; But suddenly the snow has begun to move.

And who from under him was? Big, disheveled bear; Tatiana ah!

Onegin Stream Deutsch Statistiken Video

Onegin final scene Jahrhunderts: Der junge adelige Lebemann und Zyniker Eugen Onegin will auf dem Landsitz des sterbenden Übersetzen Sie alle Bewertungen auf Deutsch. Online Sehen Onegin () - Full Filminformationen auf Deutsch (komplett), Untertitel und Original Audio. Schweizer Kino. Der russische Aristokrat Eugen Onegin wird mit wahrer Liebe konfrontiert. Er stößt sie zurück, doch Jahre später bereut er seinen Entschluss.

Oh Lord! Leave me alone. Now goodnight. The moon sheds light. Whose name is revealed? And yet I was amazed to find Them often feign a change of mind, Frightening a timid love away Reviving it the following day: At least a pretence of empathy, At least their words seeming more, Kind and tender than before.

So the gullible would blindly, Young and fond, pursue again, That fatal sweetness, though in vain. Why then consider Tanya guilty?

Because her simplicity, it seems, Is ignorant of deceit, and still she Believes completely in her dreams?

Or because her love lacks art, Follows the promptings of her heart? Surely, then, you can forgive, A fierce desire to love and live?

Tatyana is no cool coquette, She loves in all seriousness, Yields to it like a child, as yet Full of innocence and sweetness.

First rouse his vanity and let Him hope, deploy uncertainty, Exhaust him, now, let him doubt, Till the flame is dying out; Then calmly stir his jealousy, Lest tired of pleasure, freedom won, He ends the struggle and has done.

But Tanya wrote it all so badly, Never read Russian papers, sadly, Had never, even when young, Been fluent in her native tongue. Ah, what horror!

A foreign tongue it is that slips, Habitually, between their lips. May I never meet, at a ball, By the entrance step, or on it, A scholar, in a yellow shawl, An Academician in a bonnet!

Like rose-red lips without a smile, Russian without such faults is vile, Lacks charm. Their incorrect and careless chatter, Their errors of pronunciation, Still add emotion to the matter, Stir the same old sweet sensation.

Singer of Feasts and melancholy, Baratynsky, were you with me now, I might commit a daring folly And ask your Muse to take a bow, Borrow your bewitching skill, Translate my Tanya, with a will, Into verse that would amaze us, All those foreign words and phrases.

Where are you, now? In spirit, he abandons me To all my plaintive misery. Who taught her this intense emotion, This heartfelt speech, gave the notion, So charming and so perilous?

How shall I add to my confession? Yet had compassion a part to play In your thoughts, you would wait, And not abandon me to fate. At first I wished to stay quite silent, Thus, you never would have heard Of shame or misery, one word.

Why did you come, to disturb us? Lost in our rural solitude? I might have viewed My world with equanimity, This fever born of youth once past, Found another, served at last, As wife and mother, faithfully.

It was no phantom! Is it not true? I often heard you: In quiet, did you not speak to me, In works of charity, all through The hours of anguished prayer I knew, When my head ached so painfully?

He'd give to his favorite, Always unjustly persecuted, sensitive soul, wisely And attractive face. Feeding the heat of pure passion, Always enthusiastic hero He was ready to sacrifice himself, And at the end of the last part of vice was always punished, Good was decent wreath.

And now all minds in the mist, The moral of the dream brings to us, Vice polite - and the novel, And there too he triumphs.

Lord Byron whim successful Clothed in dull romance And hopeless egoism. My friends, tell what all this? May be, by heaven, I cease to be a poet, I dwell in a new demon, AND, Febovy defying threats, I stoop to humble prose; Then the novel the old way It takes my cheerful sunset.

Do not torment secret villainy I shall depict in that, But you simply retell Legends of Russian family, Dreams of love Yes, our manners of antiquity.

Retell simple speech Father or uncle-old man, Children prearranged meeting The old limes, in rucheyka; Miserable jealousy torment, separation, tears of reconciliation, quarreled again, and finally I will lead them down the aisle I remember the speech of passionate bliss, The words of yearning love, That in the last days At the feet of the beautiful mistress I come into the language, Of whom I am now out of the habit.

Tatyana, dear Tatiana! Are you now I pour tears; You're in the hands of the tyrant fashion I do give my destiny.

Tosca love Tatiana drives, And the garden is it sad, And suddenly motionless eyes tend, And laziness her further step. There will come a night; moon passes Patrol tour across the vault of heaven, And the nightingale in trees Starts sounding tunes.

Tatiana does not sleep in the dark And quietly with the nurse says:. Open the window and come sit by me ". I, happened, Stored in the memory is not enough vintage byley, tall tales About evil spirits and about girls; And now all my dark, Tanya: I knew, the forgotten.

Yes, Came a series of thin! In the summer We have not heard about love; And that would be driven from light My deceased mother in law.

My Vanya I was younger, my light, And I was thirteen years old. Two weeks went matchmaker For my home, and finally Bless me father.

I wept with fear, Mne s Place Hair unfolding Yes, with the singing of the church led. And we put in someone else's family You're not listening to me What do you want, ask Give okroplyu Holy water, You all burn I love ".

Meanwhile the moon was shining And languid light lit up Tatiana's pale beauty, And his hair loose, And drops of tears, and on the bench Before the young heroine, With a handkerchief on his head gray, An old woman in a long quilted jacket; Still dormant in silence When inspiring moon.

And the heart was worn away Tatyana, looking at the moon Suddenly a thought in her mind was born And now she was alone.

Everything is quiet. It shines the moon. Oblokotyas, Tatiana writes, And Eugene's mind, And thoughtless letter Love is an innocent virgin breathes.

I knew inaccessible beauties, cold, net, like winter, deadliness, incorruptible, Incomprehensible to the mind; I marveled at their arrogance fashion, Their natural virtues, AND, I confess, of them fled, AND, crease, I read with horror Over their eyebrows hell inscription: Abandon hope all [20].

To inspire love for them trouble, Scare makes them well. May be, on the banks of the Neva These will give you seen. Among the fans of obedient I have seen other prichudnits, proud indifferent For passionate sighs and praise.

And what I have found with amazement? They, stern commandment of Scaring timid love, She knew how to draw again At least regret, At least the sound of speech Sometimes it seemed sweeter, And gullible Blinded Again young lover He ran for a cute vanity.

Why should we think Tatyana guiltier? For this L, that sweet simplicity She does not know deceit And he believes elected dream? For this L, he loves without art, Obedient attraction feelings, With so trusting it, That is endowed by heaven rebellious imagination, The mind and the will of living, And wayward head, And the flaming heart and tender?

Shall not forgive her You levity passions? Coquette judge coolly, Tatiana loves not joking And certainly betrayed love, how sweet child.

Do not say it: Deferred - Love the price we multiply, Return to the Network Head; First vanity we'll get Hope, there perplexity heart to ache, and then Revnivym revive ognem; And that, missing Delights, Slave shackles of cunning Hourly ready escape.

Even foresee difficulty: Native land to save the honor of, I'll have, sure, Tatyana's letter to translate. It in Russian poorly known, Our magazines do not read And expresses with difficulty In the language of his native, so, I wrote in French What to do!

I repeat again: Hitherto ladies love Not izyasnyalasya in Russian, Hitherto proud our language By postal prose. I know: ladies want to make Read in Russian.

Right, fear! Can they imagine With the "well-intentioned" [21] in the hands! I shlyus you, my poets? Do not give me a god to come together at the ball Ile at the junction on the porch With a seminarian in the yellow chalet Ile Academician in a cap!

Like rosy lips without a smile, Without grammatical errors I do not like Russian speech. May be, my trouble, Beauties of new generation, Magazines heeding the pleading voice, By teaching us grammar; Poems will be put into use; But I I'll be faithful to the old days.

Wrong, careless prattle, Inaccurate reprimand speeches Still heart palpitations Produce in my breast; Repent in me no power, I will be nice Gallicisms, As the last youth sins, As Bogdanovich poetry.

I've got to go My beautiful letter; I gave the word, and well? I know: gentle guys The pen is not in vogue these days,. Singer Feasts and languorous sadness [22], If still you were with me, I would be impolite request you disturb, my dear: That on the magical tunes You moved the passionate maiden In foreign language words.

But in the midst of rocks sad, Unaccustomed heart of praise, One, under the Finnish sky, He wanders, and his soul Not hear my grief.

Tatiana's letter before me; His I religiously shore, I read with a secret longing And I can not read a lot. Who taught her and the tenderness, And words amiable negligence?

Who taught her touching nonsense, Mad heart conversation, And addictive and harmful? I can not understand. But here Incomplete, poor translation, With a live picture of a list of pale Or play Freyshits Fingers timid students:.

I write to you - what more? What can I say? Now, I know, in your will I punish contempt. At first I wanted to be silent; trust: my shame You would've never learned, If only I had the hope though rarely, at least once a week In our village to see you, Just to hear your voice, You say a word, and than all thinking, think of one Both day and night until we meet again.

But, say, you unsociable; In the backwoods, in the village all you're bored, But we Why should you visit us? In the wilderness of forgotten villages covering I never knew you used, I did not know bitter torment.

Soul inexperienced excitement Smiriv with time how to know? No, anyone in the world I would not give my heart I! That Vyshny destined council It will sky: I'm your; My whole life was a pledge Goodbye faithful to you; I know, God sent you to me, To the grave you are my guardian You came to me in dreams Invisible, you did was really nice, Your wonderful sight and suffered me, In your voice heard soul Long time no You almost went, I instantly recognized, All obomlela, blazed And in my thoughts rumor: here it is!

Is it not true? I heard you: You spoke to me in the silence, When I helped the poor Or prayer charmed Fermented longing soul?

And at that very moment Did you not, sweet vision, The clear dark flashed, He looked down silently to the head? You're not the only weapon, with joy and love, I whispered words of hope?

May be, it's all empty, Cheating inexperienced soul! And destined quite different But so be it! I'm waiting for you: single glance Hope heart quicken Or sleep heavy Pererva, Alas, deserved reproach!

It is terrible to count Shame and fear froze But I guarantee your honor, And feel free to commit himself to her Tatiana then sigh, the ohnet; The letter trembles in her hand; Pink wafer dries On inflammation of the tongue.

Her head leaned to the shoulder, Shirt light down With her charming shoulder But that's really moonbeam radiance is extinguished.

Here morning: We stood all long, My Tatiana still. She does not notice dawn, He is sitting with bowed head And in the letter does not presses His engraved print.

But, unlocking the door softly, Already she Filipevna gray It brings a tray of tea. Oh my Early bird!

Vechor much as I was afraid! Yes, thank God, you healthy! Tosca night and no trace, Your face like a poppy ". But you see To neighbors I now became stupid.

All around there are a lot of neighbors; Where them to me and countless ". What I need in your mind? You see, thing about the letter By Onegin.

Do not be angry, my soul, You know, I do not understand What are you pale again? Send your grandchildren. But the day passed, and no answer.

Holguin came admirer. Tatyana, flashing, shook. Spilled Olga's hand, Cups dark current The fragrant tea was, And the cream of the boy filed; Tatiana stood before the window, On the cool glass breathing, thinking, my soul, Lovely finger wrote On the glass of cloudy Oh yes coveted Monogram E.

And by the time her soul was aching, And the tears was full of languid eyes. The other holds cannon!.. Here's a closer! AND, gasping for breath, on the bench.

I fell Oh my God! But can not hear. In the garden of the maids, on the ridges, Sbiralsya berry bushes In chorus sang Order, based on what, To lord berries secretly The mouth does not want lukavye And singing were employed: Undertaking rural acuity!

Maid, beauty, darling, behold, Raffle girls, Razgulay, cute! Do not go podslushivaty ditties, Do not go to spy our games girly.

They sing, and, with negligence Listening to their voices ringing, Impatiently she, To heart palpitations it subsided, To have passed Glowing cheeks.

But in Persia the same flutter, And do not pass cheeks glow, but brighter, only burns brighter So poor butterfly and shine And beating rainbow wing, Captured school mischievous; So bunny in winter wheat trembles, Suddenly seeing from afar The bushes pripadshego arrow.

But finally she sighed And he got up from his bench; went, but only turned The alley, in front of her, glittering gaze, Eugene It should be like a menacing shadow of, AND, as the fire burned, stop it.

But the consequences of the unexpected meeting Today, dear friends, Recount can not I; I should, after a long speech And take a walk and relax: Finish after sometime.

The less we love a woman, The better she likes us And yet it rather ruin Amid the seductive networks. Who is not bored hypocrite, Various repeat one, Important to try to assure that, What everyone is convinced for a long time, All the same to hear objections, destroy predrassuzhdenya, Which was not and is not The girl was thirteen!

Who will not tire threats, supplications, oath, imaginary fear, Notes on six sheets, deceptions, gossip, rings, tears, supervisions aunts, mothers And friendship oppressive husbands!

So what exactly my thought Eugene. He was the first of her youth He was a victim of violent delusions And unbridled passions.

Living habits spoiled, One at a time fascinated, Frustrated other, Desire slowly tormented, Tormented and windy success, Listening in noise and in silence Murmurs eternal soul, Yawn suppressing laughter: That's how he killed eight, The loss of life the best color.

The beauties he really fell in love, A trailing somehow; Denied - instantly comforted; Change - I was glad to have a rest. He sought them without rapture, A leave without regret, Slightly remembering their love and anger.

So exactly indifferent guest On whist evening arrives, sits; game ended: He's leaving the yard, Calmly asleep at home And he did not know in the morning, Where to go at evening.

May be, ancient ardor feelings They seized a moment; But he did not want to cheat Trusting souls of the innocent.

Now we have flights to the garden, Where she met with him Tatiana. Two minutes they were silent, But it came Onegin and rumors: "You wrote to me, Do not deny it.

I've read Soul trusting confessions, Innocent outpouring of love; Me your sincerity sweet; She brought excitement Silenced for a long time feeling; But praise you I do not want; I will repay you for it Recognition is also without art; Take my confession: Himself on the court I will give it.

Whenever life around the home I wanted to limit the; When I used to be a father, spouse Nice lot commanded; When used familial picture I was captivated by even a single moment, — Then, true b, except you one The bride was not looking for another.

I will say without sparkles madrigal: When he had found my old ideal, I, true b, You have chosen one The girlfriend of my sad days, All that is beautiful in pledge, And I would have been happy as he could!

But I'm not made for happiness; Alien to him my soul; In vain your perfection: They did not worthy of me. I, no matter how much you would love, accustomed, immediately stop loving; begin to cry: your tears Not touched my heart, And will only enrage him.

What could be worse than in the world Families, where the poor wife Sad about the unworthy husband, Day and night one; Where boring husband, she knew the price fate, however, cursing , always furrowed, silent, Angry and cold-jealous!

That is, I. And that l sought you clean, fiery soul, When with such ease, With such a mind me writing? Shall you a lot Strictly appointed destiny?

Dreams and years of no return; I not updated my soul I love you like a brother AND, may be, even sweeter. Listen Well me without anger: It replaces not just mladaya Maid Light dream dreams; So sapling my sheets It varies with each spring.

So one can see the sky destined. Love you back: but… Learn to control themselves; Not just you, like me, will understand; For trouble inexperience leads ".

So Eugene preached. Through tears, seeing nothing, barely breathing, without objections, Tatiana listened to him. He held out his hand to her.

It has rural freedom Its happy right, How and nadmennaya Moscow. Will you agree, my reader, Very nice entered With our friend Tanya sad; Not for the first time, he immediately revealed Soul direct nobility, Although people nedobrohotstvo It is not spared anything: his enemies, his friends what, may be, same After him this way and that.

Enemies has everyone in the world, But save us from friends, Christ! Oh, these friends, friends! On them wonder I remembered.

Yes so. I euthanized blank, black dreams; I just noticed in brackets, That there is no contemptible slander, In the attic born liar And secular rabble emboldened, That there is no such absurdity, Nor epigrams areal, Which would be your friend with a smile, In the circle of decent people, Without any malice and austere, Do not mistake a hundred times repeated; But by the way, he is for you a mountain: He loves you like a native!

Let: may be, anything Now you know me, What do you mean it is native. Native people here what: We owe them caress, Be in love, sincere respect AND, according to the custom of the people, On Christmas visit them Or by mail to congratulate, To the rest of the year We do not think of us they But the love of gentle beauties Reliability of friendship and kinship: On her, and amid storms rebel You retain the right to.

Of course so. But the whirlwind of fashion, But the perversity of nature, But the opinion of the secular stream A cute floor, as down, easy.

To that and opinions wife For the virtuous wife Always have to be venerable; So your faithful friend It is suddenly keen: Love jokes Satan.

Who loves? Who to believe? Who will not change us one? Who all things, all the speeches Merit Helpfully to our yardstick? Who slanders about us not sow?

Who we carefully nurture? To our sin does not matter? Who would not get bored ever? Ghost vain seeker, Work naprasno not lose, Love yourself, Hon my reader!

Subject worthy: nothing Lyubezney, right, he is not here. What was the result of good-bye? Alas, It is not difficult to guess!

Love crazy suffering Not ceased to excite youth people, sadness greedy; No, Forest passion desolate Tatiana poor lit; Her bedside sleep runs; Health, life color and sweetness, Smile, virgin peace, lost all, that empty sound, And pales cute Tanya Mladost: So clothe the storm shadow Hardly a day is born.

Alas, Tatiana fade, Bledneet, goes out and says nothing! Nothing it does not take, Her heart does not move. It is important pump head, Neighbors shepchut limits a: It's time, it is time to marry her!..

It is necessary to me soon cheer imagination Picture of happy love. Hour by hour captive Bole Olga Kras young, Vladimir sweet captivity I indulged in full assurance of soul.

He was always with her. In it alone They sit in the dark two; They are in the garden, with hand hand, Sometimes a morning walk; And what?

He sometimes reads Ole preachy novel, In which the author knows Bole nature, than Chateaubriand, Meanwhile, two, three pages empty nonsense, fables, Threatening heart virgins he misses, blushing.

Retire from all away, They are on the chessboard, Leaning on table, occasionally sit, deep in thought, And Lena pawns rook It takes its scattering.

Do go home, and home He occupied his Olga. Volatile album sheets Diligently she decorates: In them draws rural scenes, Tombstone, Kipridy temple, Or lire golubka Pen and inks slightly; Then the leaves recollection Below the signature of the other It leaves a gentle verse, Silent monument of dream, Instant thoughts long trail, Still the same after many years.

Of course, you do not just seen County girls album, That all girlfriends izmarali From the end, from start around. Here, spite spelling, Verses without measure, according to legend The sign of friendship made faithful, reduced, continued.

Annette; And on the last read: "Who loves you more, Let me continue to write ". Here you will certainly find Two hearts, torch and flowers; Here you will read is true oath In love to the grave; Any poet Army Here podmahnul poem villainous.

In this album, my friends, Admit, I am glad to write and, I am sure being a soul, That any my hard nonsense It deserves benevolent gaze And then, with an evil smile It becomes important to understand, Ile I could no lie.

So you, language inspired, At the heart of its gusts, Sing God knows whom, And a set of precious elegies Present once you The whole story of your fate.

Where to! As they wrote in a powerful years, As of old instituted AND, full, friend; does not it matter?

Fan of glory and freedom, In the excitement of his tumultuous thoughts, Vladimir and wrote odes to, Do not read them Olga.

Whether Therefore, the case of tears Read in the eyes of their amiable his creations? They say, What in the world do not have the above awards.

And vpryam, Blessed are the humble lover, Reading your dreams The object of songs and love, Beauty pleasantly languid! And what Onegin?

I ask your patience: His busy all the day I will describe to you in detail. Onegin lived anchorite: At seven o'clock he got up in the summer And sends the light By running under the mountain river; Singer Gulnara imitating, This crossed the Hellespont, Then he drank his coffee, Bad sorting magazine, And dress Walking, reading, sleep deep, Forest shadow, gurgling streams, Downpour Belyanka chernookoy Mlada and fresh kiss, Check docile horse zealous, Lunch is quite whimsical, light wine bottle, solitude, silence: That's the life of a saint Onegin; And it is insensitive to her devotedly, red summer days The carefree bliss apart, Forgetting and the city, and friends, And boredom festive austere.

But our northern summer, A caricature of the southern winter, Flicker and no: It knows it, Although we do not want to admit.

Already the sky breathed autumn, Much less the sun shone, It became shorter day, Mysterious forest canopy With a sad noise bared, Fog lay on the field, Caravan of noisy geese I stretched to the south: pryblyzhalas Quite a boring time to; It was November so in court.

Dawn arises during cold mist; On nivah noise stopped work; With his hungry she-wolf It goes on the road wolf; his Pochuev, horse road Snore - and cautious traveler It is rushing up the hill at full speed; At dawn shepherd It does not drive so the cows out of the crib, And in the hour of midday in a circle They do not call him the horn; The hut singing, Virgo [23] spins, and, each winter nights, Bursting splinter in front of her.

And now crackling frost And silver through the fields The reader waits too rhyme rose; On, Now take it quickly!

Preppy fashion parquet shines river, ice dressed. In the middle of nowhere to do at this time? The village of the times Involuntarily bother eyes monotonous nudity.

To ride in the desert harsh? Sit under the roof desert, Read: here Pradt, W's. Do not want? Direct Onegin Child-Harold Far away in a pensive laziness: With sleep sits in a bath of ice, And after, home all day, One, immersed in calculations, Blunt cue armed, He billiards in two balls He plays with the morning.

Evening comes rustic: Billiards left, cue forgotten, The table is set in front of a fireplace, Eugene waiting: Here goes Lensky On the top three roan horses; Come dine hurry!

Veuve Clicquot or Moet blessed wine The frozen bottle for the poet On the table at once brought. It sparkles Ipokrenoy; [25] It's his game and foam The likeness of-this I was captivated: for him Last poor mites, happened, I gave.

Remember l, friends? His magic spray It gave rise to not a little stupid, And how many jokes and poems, and disputes, and gay dreams! By Ai I am no longer able to; Ai lover like brilliant, vetrenoy, alive, And wayward, and empty Notes, Bordeaux, like a friend, Which the, in sorrow and in trouble, comrade zavsegda, everywhere, Ready to be of service to us Ile quiet section Leisure.

Yes zdravstvuet Bordeaux, our friend! The fire was extinguished; only zoloyu Veiled coal gold; Barely perceptible jets Vieta pairs, and warmth Fireplace just breathe.

Smoke from pipes The pipe leaves. The evening is a haze I love the friendly bull And a friendly glass of wine sometimes that, that is named It is time between a wolf and a dog, And why, I do not see.

Now talk to friends:. Olga your frisky? The whole family Healthy; bow told. Brother, sweet, as the prettier Olga's shoulders, it chest!

What the soul! Yes, that's You to them for that week Zwaan. Olenka and mother told to call, and there is no reason You do not come to call. Who will be there?

Let's go, do smth. Well, well? He was cheerful. Through two weeks He was appointed to a happy life. And the mystery brachnyya bed, And sweet love wreath His enthusiasm expected.

Meanwhile, as we, enemies of hymen, The home life of the visible one A number of tedious paintings, A novel in the style of La Fontaine It was love Stokrat blessed, who betrayed the faith, Who, hladny mind to settle down, It rests in the heart bliss, Like a drunken stranger in the inn, Or, tenderly, like a moth, In the spring, glaring flower; But the miserable, who foresees everything, Whose not dizzy, Who all movements, all words In their translation hates, Whose heart experience chilled And forget forbidden!

That year, the autumn weather It was a long time in the yard, winters waited, I am waiting for nature. Snow fell only in January On the third night.

Peasant, triumphantly, On the wood-sledge update path; his horse, snow Pochuev, Trudges trot somehow; Reins fluffy blasting, Flies kibitka daring; The driver sits on the driver's seat The coat, in Red Sash.

Here runs serf boy, In skids planted bugs, Transforming itself into a horse; Varmint too frozen finger: He and painful and funny, A mother threatens him in the box But, may be, this kind The paintings do not attract: All of this is low nature; Fine not much here.

Warmed by inspiration God, Another poet luxurious syllable It depicts us the first snow And all shades of winter neg; [27] He will captivate, I'm sure that, Drawing in fiery verses Walking secret sleigh; But I do not intend to fight Neither with him for the time being, neither you, Singer finlyandki young!

According to the old triumph In their house the night: Maids from all over the yard About their ladies were wondering And they promised each year Muzhev military and trekking.

Tatiana believed devotion folksy antiques, And snam, and card divination, And the predictions of the moon. Her troubled signs; Mysteriously her all subjects Proclaiming something, Forebodings oppress the chest.

She trembled and turned pale. When will a falling star In a dark sky letela and discomfited, - then The confusion Tanya hurry, While the star is still rolling, Her heart's desire to whisper.

When it happens anywhere She met the black monk Ile fast hare between fields She ran across the road, Without knowing, that begin with the fear, Sad forebodings full, I am waiting unhappiness since she.

I found the secret of beauty And in the horror she: So our nature sotvoryla, By protivurechiyu inclined. Then came yuletide. That's the joy!

Divination vetrenaya mladosty, Which nothing sorry, In front of which the distance of life lies bright, neobozrima; Gad old age through his glasses At the grave of its board, All lost irretrievably; And still: hope their Lying to his childish prattle.

Tatiana curious glance On wax looks sunk: He poured wonderful pattern Her something wonderful reads; of food, full of water, Output Ring succession of; And pulled out a ring to it Under the old days song: "There are some peasants still rich, Rowing silver shovel; To sing, so good And the glory!

Frosty night, sky is clear; Heavenly bodies marvelous choir It flows so quietly, so according to the Tatiana broad courtyard In an open dress out, Month suggests a mirror; But in the dark mirror one Shivers sad moon And I - at the thought of Svetlana I was scared - so be it With Tatiana us not to tell fortunes.

Tatiana belt silk He lifted, undressed and in bed Beds. Above it meanders Lel, A pod pillow puhovoy Maiden mirror lies. Tatiana is sleeping.

And dream a wonderful dream Tatiana. How to unfortunate separation, Tatiana murmurs in the brook; Not see anyone, one hand On the other side would have handed her; But suddenly the snow has begun to move.

And who from under him was? Big, disheveled bear; Tatiana ah! It, not daring to look back, A hasty step accelerates; But kosmatogo footman It can not escape in any way; Kryahtya, fells bear insufferable; Before them, the forest; motionless pines In his frowning glory; Heavy with their branches all tufts of snow; through the top Osin, naked and march in July It shines a beam of light night; there is no way; bushes, dalles Blizzard all listed, Deeply immersed in the snow.

Tatyana in the woods; Bear for her; Loose snow on her knee; The long bough her neck hook suddenly, the ears of Golden earrings will pull force; Then in a fragile snow with nice legs Bogged down wet slipper; That she will drop the handkerchief; Raise it once; fears, Bear hears of a, And even trembling hand Skirt lift ashamed; She runs, he followed suit, And the forces have run it there.

Onegin is sitting at the table And stole the door looks. He will give a sign - and all are busy; He drinks - all drinks and all shout; He laughs - all laughing; Frowning - everyone is silent; He was there the owner, it is clear: And Tanya really not so bad, AND, curious, Now I opened the door a little bit Suddenly the wind blew, Zagashev Fire lamps night; Confused a bunch of brownies; Onegin, gaze flashing, From the table, booming, rises; everyone stood: He goes to the door.

And it is terrible; and hurried Tatiana tries to flee: can not in any way; impatiently metayas, She wants to cry: Can not; pushed the door Eugene: And the gaze of the infernal ghosts I was a virgin; ardent laughter There was a wild; eyes of all, Hoof, trunks curves, tufted tails, fangs, Mustache, bloody tongue, Horns and bony fingers, All Decrees on it, And shout: my!

The dispute louder, louder; suddenly Eugene Missing long knife, and suddenly defeated Lena; scary shadows thicken; unbearable cry There was a cabin staggered Tanya woke up in horror Looking, much light in the room; The window through the frozen glass Dawn purple ray plays; the door opened.

Though this is not a book Neither sweet inventions of the poet, Neither wise truths, no pictures, But not Virgilij, nor Racine, neither Scott, nor Byron, our Seneca, Not even Millinery fashion magazine So no one held: That was, friends, Mart Zadyeka [33], The head of the Chaldean sages, Gadately, dream interpreter.

Martin Zadek later became A favorite of Tanya He refreshing All sorrows gives her And bezotluchno sleeps with her.

Her disturbing dreams. Without knowing, how to understand, Dreams wrong values Tatiana wants to find. Tatyana in the table of contents summary Finds alphabetical order The words: brown, storm, witch, ale, hedgehog, darkness, mostok, bear, blizzard etc..

A few days later she All worried about. In the morning guests of the house Larin all full; whole families Neighbors gathered in sleigh, into the tent, in carts and sleigh.

With his wife, the portly I came thick Trifles; Gvozdin, excellent host, The owner of the poor peasants; Skotinin, read sedan, With children of all ages, considering From thirty to two years; County dandy Petushki, My cousin brother, Buyanov, In down, a cap with a visor [35] How do you, of course, he is familiar , And retired adviser Flyanov, heavy Whisperer, old rogue, Gluttony, briber and the Fool.

As a true Frenchman, in the pocket Triquet brought verse Tatiana to the voice, children know: Wake up, sleeping beauty.

Between songs dilapidated almanac This verse was printed; Trike, ingenious poet, Its the light of the dust revealed, And instead of boldly belle Nina I put belle Tatiana.

And from the neighboring tenements Mature ladies idol, County matushkas joy, Came the company commander; I came Ah, news, so what!

Music will regimental! Colonel himself sent her. What joy: ball will! Girls jumping in advance; [36] But dinner is served. Closely girls Tatiana; men against; and, being baptized, The crowd buzzes, sitting down at the table.

For a moment, silent conversations; mouth chew. From all sides Rattling plates and cutlery Yes drinks tinkling sounds. But soon the little guests Podemlyut general alarm.

Nobody listens, shout, laughing, arguing and whining. Suddenly the door wide open. Lena enters, And with him Onegin. Put right against Thani, AND, morning moon paler And reverent persecuted deer, She darkening eyes not raises: bursting violently In her passionate fever; it is stuffy, bad; It welcomes the two friends Does not hear, tears from eyes Really want to drip; really ready Poor thing to fall into a swoon; But the will and the power of reason Prevozmogli.

It is two words Through clenched teeth rumor Tishkov And remained sitting at the table. Tragi-nervichsskih phenomena, girls' fainting, tears It has long been hated Eugene: Quite them he suffered.

But languid maidens Noticing tremulous rush, With annoyance eyes downcast, He pouted and, nehoduya, Lena vowed to infuriate And it is the order of revenge.

Now, advance triumphantly, He began to draw in his soul Cartoons of all guests. Of course, not one Eugene Tanya could see the confusion; But the purpose of the gaze and judgment While fat was cake Unluckily, salted ; Yes, that's in the bottle zasmolennoy, Between hot and Blanc-cuff, Tsimlyanskoe are already; Followed by formation of narrow glasses, long, Like your waist, Zizi, crystal of my soul, The subject of my innocent verses, Love primanchivy Vial, You, from whom I have been drunk!

Freed from the cork moist, bottle slammed; wine Shippey; and that's an important postural, Verse tormented for a long time, Triquet stands up; Assembly before him Keeps a deep silence.

Tatiana almost alive; Trike, By turning it with a sheet in his hand, sang, falsely. Plesk, clicks his welcome.

It Singer forced to sit; Poet as modest, though great, Her first health drink And she sends verse. Send greetings, congratulation; Tatiana all thanks.

Recall the sea before a storm, How I envied the waves then, Each falling there as they form To lie at her feet, in peace again! How I longed to be those seas Kissing her dear feet as they please!

Another day I bring to mind! Their words, their looks, both are sweet, Yet prove as faithless…. And my Onegin?

Half-asleep He flees the ball, and finds his bed, But Petersburg that restless heap Its drum pounds fit to wake the dead.

The merchant and the beggar rise, To his stand the cabman drives, The milkmaids from Ochta go Crunching over morning snow.

He wakes at noon, or even later, His life till dawn the same as ever, Monotonous and varied, say, Tomorrow just like yesterday.

But was dear Yevgeny content Free, and in the flower of youth, Midst glittering victories, in truth, Midst oft repeated amusement?

Was he as vigorous and carefree As at the feast he seemed to be? No, for his early feelings faded, Exhausted by society, Not for long were lovely ladies The object of his constancy; Faithlessness was not amusing Friends and friendship were confusing, Since even he at times would sigh At more beefsteak and Strasbourg pie Endless bottles of sparkling wine And fail to offer a word, to make A bon mot, with a fierce headache, And though a womaniser fine, In the end he too grew bored With duelling, pistols, and the sword.

You were the first, capricious belles, He would neglect and then abandon. Today we know, truth to tell The crushing boredom of bon ton. Besides they are so pure, so pious, So clever, and so circumspect, So blameless in their intellect, So inflexible, so virtuous, So unapproachable, serene, Their very presence causes spleen.

I too cast off the social burden, At that time, and retired from view, I made a friend of Eugene then.

I liked his face, his manner too, Liked his dreamy tendency, His unique eccentricity, His mind, incisive, and chilly; I was bitter, he was gloomy.

Like prisoners released in sleep, To roam the forests green, so us, Carried in dream to that land where All life, before us, seemed so fair.

His heart consumed with regret Leaning, musing pensively, On the granite parapet, As Muraviev, our Yevgeny. All is still, only the guards Call to each other in the yards, Or far sounds rise, as wheels meet The cobbles of Milyona Street.

Waves of the distant Adriatic, Oh Brenta! When shall I ever loose my tether? With joy, I call aloud, I pace the shore, wait for fair weather, Signal each passing sail, each shroud.

When, storm-wrapped, shall I be free To fight the waves, and scour the sea, When will my wings begin to soar? The house was filled with commotion, Friends and enemies from afar Had called to show their true devotion, Or enjoy the funeral, as you are.

The dead man buried priest and guests Did full justice to the rest, Ate, drank, then left, solemnly Pleased that they had done their duty.

Glad now that his former ways Were changing with the passing days. For two days it was all quite new, The solitariness of the meadow, The coolness of the dark glades too, The babbling brook, the silent furrow, By the third, field, wood, and hill, No longer even stirred his will, He even felt the urge to yawn, He saw as clear as the dawn, The country caused the same ennui Despite the lack of streets and yards, Of dances, poetry, and cards, While disillusion dogged him constantly, Pursued him endlessly through life, Like a shadow, or a wife.

I was born for quiet existence For rural silence, where the lyre Sounds more sweetly in the silence, And spirit finds creative fire.

In ease and innocence I take A walk beside the lonely lake, And far niente is my law. Every dawn produces more Dear liberty and leisure. I read a lot, I doze a little, Careless of fame, the brittle.

Was it not, with such pure pleasure, In happiness, in idle ways, I once spent my sweetest days? Flowers, love, fields, and idleness, O country life!

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Ausgewählte Erzählungen - Alexander Pushkin ( Hörbuch )

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