De: Eugene Onegin
Chapter Five
Oh, know not these dreadful dreams, You, my Svetlana! Zhukovsky
I
That year the autumn weather Lingered long in the yard, Nature waited, waited for winter. Snow fell only in January On the third at night. Waking early, Tatyana saw through the window In the morning the whitened yard, The flower beds, roofs and fence, On the glass delicate patterns, Trees in winter silver, Merry magpies in the yard And softly carpeted hills In winter's brilliant covering. All is bright, all white around.
II
Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant, Renews the path on his sledge; His little horse, sensing the snow, Plods along at a trot somehow; Tearing up fluffy furrows, The daring kibitka flies; The coachman sits on the box In his sheepskin coat, in a red sash. There runs a yard boy, Having seated his little dog in the sled, Transforming himself into a horse; The mischief-maker has already frozen his finger: It's both painful and funny to him, And his mother threatens him from the window…
III
But, perhaps, this sort of Picture will not attract you: All this is low nature; There is not much refined here. Warmed by the god of inspiration, Another poet in luxurious style Painted for us the first snow And all the shades of winter delights; He will captivate you, I am certain of that, Depicting in flaming verses Secret sleigh rides; But I do not intend to compete Either with him for now, nor with you, Singer of the young Finnish maid!
IV
Tatyana (Russian in her soul, Not knowing herself why) With its cold beauty Loved the Russian winter, The hoarfrost in the sun on a frosty day, And sledges, and at late dawn The radiance of rosy snows, And the gloom of Epiphany evenings. In the old way they celebrated These evenings in their house: Servant girls from all the yard Told fortunes for their young ladies And promised them each year Military husbands and a campaign.
V
Tatyana believed in the legends Of simple folk antiquity, And dreams, and card fortune-telling, And predictions of the moon. Omens troubled her; Mysteriously all objects Proclaimed something to her, Forebodings pressed upon her breast. A fastidious cat, sitting on the stove, Purring, washing its muzzle with its paw: That was an unmistakable sign to her That guests were coming. Suddenly seeing The young two-horned face of the moon In the sky on the left side,
VI
She trembled and grew pale. When a falling star Flew across the dark sky And scattered, — then In confusion Tanya hurried, While the star was still rolling, To whisper to it her heart's desire. When it happened somewhere For her to meet a black monk Or a swift hare across the fields Ran across her path, Not knowing what to do from fear, Full of grievous forebodings, She already expected misfortune.
VII
What then? Even in horror itself She found a secret charm: Thus nature created us, Inclined to contradiction. The Yuletide came. Such joy! Giddy youth tells fortunes, Which regrets nothing, Before which life's distance Lies bright, unbounded; Old age tells fortunes through spectacles By its coffin plank, Having lost everything irrevocably; And it's all the same: hope Lies to them with its childish babble.
VIII
Tatyana with curious gaze Looks at the melted wax: Its wondrously molded pattern Tells her something wondrous; From a dish full of water Rings emerge in succession; And a little ring came out for her To the song of ancient days: "There the peasants are all rich, They shovel silver with a spade; To whom we sing, to him good fortune And glory!" But this song's pitiful melody Promises losses; Dearer to maidens' hearts is the cat song.
IX
The night is frosty, all the sky is clear; The wondrous choir of heavenly lights Flows so quietly, so harmoniously… Tatyana goes out to the wide yard In an open dress, Points a mirror at the moon; But in the dark mirror alone The sad moon trembles… Hark… the snow crunches… a passerby; the maiden Flies to him on tiptoes, And her little voice sounds More tender than a pipe's melody: What is your name? He looks at her And answers: Agathon.
X
Tatyana, following her nurse's advice, Preparing to tell fortunes at night, Quietly ordered in the bathhouse A table set for two; But suddenly Tatyana became frightened… And I — at the thought of Svetlana I became frightened — so be it… With Tatyana we shall not tell fortunes. Tatyana removed her silk sash, Undressed and into bed Lay down. Above her hovers Lel, And under the down pillow A maiden's mirror lies. All has quieted. Tatyana sleeps.
XI
And Tatyana dreams a wondrous dream. She dreams that she Is walking across a snowy meadow, Surrounded by sad gloom; In snowdrifts before her Roars, swirls with its wave A seething, dark and gray Stream, not bound by winter; Two poles, glued together with ice, A trembling, perilous little bridge, Are laid across the stream: And before the roaring abyss, Full of perplexity, She stopped.
XII
As at a vexing separation, Tatyana murmurs at the stream; She sees no one who would extend a hand To her from the other side; But suddenly the snowdrift stirred, And who appeared from under it? A large, shaggy bear; Tatyana gasps! and he roars, And his paw with sharp claws He extended to her; she, steeling herself, Leaned with trembling hand And with fearful steps Made her way across the stream; She went on — and what? the bear after her!
XIII
She, not daring to look back, Hastens her hurried step; But from the shaggy lackey She cannot escape at all; Grunting, the unbearable bear lumbers; Before them a forest; motionless pines In their frowning beauty; All their branches are weighed down With clumps of snow; through the tops Of aspens, birches and bare lindens Shines the beam of nocturnal lights; There is no road; bushes, ravines All covered by the blizzard, Deeply plunged in snow.
XIV
Tatyana into the forest; the bear after her; The loose snow up to her knee; Now a long branch catches her suddenly By the neck, now from her ears It tears out golden earrings by force; Now in the fragile snow her dear little foot's Wet shoe gets stuck; Now she drops her handkerchief; She has no time to pick it up; she's afraid, Hears the bear behind her, And even with trembling hand She's ashamed to lift the edge of her dress; She runs, he ever follows, And she has no more strength to run.
XV
She fell in the snow; the bear swiftly Seizes her and carries her; She senselessly submissive, Does not stir, does not breathe; He rushes her along a forest path; Suddenly among the trees a poor hut; All around is wilderness; from everywhere it Is covered with deserted snow, And the window shines brightly, And in the hut there's shouting and noise; The bear said: "Here's my godfather: Warm yourself at his place a little!" And straight to the entrance hall he goes, And lays her on the threshold.
XVI
She came to her senses, Tatyana looks: The bear is gone; she's in the entrance hall; Behind the door shouting and clinking of glasses, As at a big funeral; Seeing no sense in this at all, She looks quietly through a crack, And what does she see?.. at the table Sit monsters all around: One with horns, with a dog's muzzle, Another with a rooster's head, Here a witch with a goat's beard, There a skeleton prim and proud, There a dwarf with a little tail, and here Half-crane and half-cat.
XVII
Still more frightful, still more wondrous: Here's a crayfish riding on a spider, Here a skull on a goose's neck Spins in a red cap, Here a windmill dances squatting And creaks and waves its wings; Barking, laughter, singing, whistling and clapping, Human chatter and horses' hoofbeats! But what did Tatyana think When she recognized among the guests The one who is dear and terrible to her, The hero of our novel! Onegin sits at the table And glances furtively at the door.
XVIII
He gives a sign — and all bustle; He drinks — all drink and all shout; He laughs — all roar with laughter; He frowns — all fall silent; So, he's the master, that's clear: And Tanya is no longer so terrified, And curious now She opened the door a little… Suddenly the wind blew, extinguishing The fire of the night lamps; The gang of house spirits was troubled; Onegin, eyes flashing, Rises from the table with a crash; All rose: he goes to the door.
XIX
And she's frightened; and hastily Tatyana tries to flee: Impossible; impatiently Tossing about, she wants to cry out: She cannot; Eugene pushed the door, And to the gazes of hellish apparitions The maiden appeared; fierce laughter Rang out wildly; the eyes of all, Hooves, crooked trunks, Tufted tails, fangs, Whiskers, bloody tongues, Horns and bony fingers, All point at her, And all cry: mine! mine!
XX
Mine! — said Eugene menacingly, And the whole gang suddenly vanished; There remained in the frosty darkness The young maiden with him alone; Onegin quietly draws Tatyana into a corner and lays Her on a rickety bench And inclines his head To her on her shoulder; suddenly Olga enters, Behind her Lensky; light flashed, Onegin swung his hand, And wildly he roams with his eyes, And scolds the uninvited guests; Tatyana lies barely alive.
XXI
The quarrel grows louder, louder; suddenly Eugene Seizes a long knife, and in an instant Lensky is struck down; terribly the shadows Thickened; an unbearable cry Rang out… the hut shook… And Tanya woke in horror… She looks, it's already light in the room; In the window through the frozen glass Dawn's crimson ray plays; The door opened. Olga to her, Rosier than the northern Aurora And lighter than a swallow, flies in; "Well," she says, "tell me then, Whom did you see in your dream?"
XXII
But she, not noticing her sister, Lies in bed with a book, Turning leaf after leaf, And says nothing. Though this book showed Neither sweet fictions of a poet, Nor wise truths, nor pictures, But neither Virgil, nor Racine, Nor Scott, nor Byron, nor Seneca, Nor even the Ladies' Fashion Journal So engaged anyone: It was, friends, Martin Zadeka, Head of the Chaldean sages, Fortune-teller, interpreter of dreams.
XXIII
This profound creation A wandering merchant brought Once to them in their solitude And for Tatyana finally He yielded it with a tattered Malvina For three and a half rubles, Taking in addition for them A collection of vulgar fables, A grammar, two Petriads, And Marmontel's third volume. Martin Zadeka became thereafter Tanya's favorite… He gives her comfort In all sorrows And sleeps inseparably with her.
XXIV
The dream troubles her. Not knowing how to understand it, The meaning of the dreadful vision Tatyana wants to discover. Tatyana in the brief table of contents Finds in alphabetical order The words: forest, storm, witch, fir, Hedgehog, darkness, little bridge, bear, blizzard And so forth. Her doubts Martin Zadeka will not resolve; But the ominous dream promises her Many sad adventures. For several days afterward She kept worrying about it.
XXV
But now with crimson hand Dawn from the morning valleys Leads out with the sun behind her The merry feast of a name day. From morning the Larins' house with guests Is all full; in whole families Neighbors have come together in carts, In kibitkas, in carriages and in sledges. In the front hall jostling, commotion; In the drawing room the meeting of new faces, Barking of lap dogs, smacking of girls, Noise, laughter, crush at the doorway, Bows, shuffling of guests, Nurses' cries and children's weeping.
XXVI
With his portly spouse Arrived the fat Pustyakov; Gvozdin, an excellent host, Owner of impoverished peasants; The Skotinins, a gray-haired couple, With children of all ages, counting From thirty to two years; The district dandy Petushkov, My second cousin, Buyanov, In down, in a peaked cap (As you surely know him), And the retired counselor Flyanov, A heavy gossip, an old rogue, Glutton, bribe-taker and buffoon.
XXVII
With the family of Panfil Kharikov Arrived also Monsieur Triquet, A wit, recently from Tambov, In spectacles and a ginger wig. Like a true Frenchman, in his pocket Triquet brought a couplet for Tatyana To a tune known to children: Réveillez-vous, belle endormie. Among the almanac's ancient songs This couplet had been printed; Triquet, a resourceful poet, Brought it to light from the dust, And boldly instead of belle Nina Put belle Tatiana.
XXVIII
And now from the nearby settlement, The idol of ripened young ladies, The delight of district matrons, The company commander arrived; He entered… Ah, what news! There will be regimental music! The colonel himself sent it. What joy: there will be a ball! The girls jump in advance; But they served the meal. In pairs They go to the table hand in hand. The young ladies crowd around Tatyana; The men opposite; and, crossing themselves, The crowd buzzes, sitting down at the table.
XXIX
For a moment conversations fell silent; Mouths chew. From all sides Plates and utensils clatter, And the clinking of glasses resounds. But soon the guests little by little Raise a general commotion. No one listens, they shout, Laugh, argue and squeal. Suddenly the doors wide open. Lensky enters, And with him Onegin. "Ah, creator!" — Cries the hostess: "at last!" The guests press, everyone moves aside Utensils, chairs quickly; They call, seat the two friends.
XXX
They seat them straight across from Tanya, And, paler than the morning moon And more trembling than a hunted doe, She does not raise Her darkening eyes: passionately Fervent heat burns in her; she feels stuffy, faint; She does not hear the greetings of the two friends, Tears from her eyes Want already to fall; she's ready The poor thing to faint; But willpower and reason's control Prevailed. She spoke two words Through her teeth quietly And remained seated at the table.
XXXI
Tragi-nervous phenomena, Maidens' fainting spells, tears Eugene had long been unable to bear: He had endured enough of them. The eccentric, having fallen upon a huge feast, Was already angry. But, noticing The languid maiden's trembling impulse, Lowering his gaze in vexation, He sulked and, indignant, Swore to drive Lensky mad And properly take revenge. Now, triumphing in advance, He began to sketch in his soul Caricatures of all the guests.
XXXII
Of course, not Eugene alone Could see Tanya's confusion; But the object of gazes and judgments At that time was the fatty pie (Unfortunately, oversalted); And now in a tarred bottle, Between the roast and blancmange, They're already bringing Tsimlyanskoe; After it a row of narrow, long glasses, Like your waist, Zizi, crystal of my soul, Subject of my innocent verses, Love's alluring phial, You, from whom I used to get drunk!
XXXIII
Freed from the moist cork, The bottle popped; the wine Hisses; and now with important bearing, Long tormented by a couplet, Triquet rises; before him the assembly Keeps deep silence. Tatyana barely alive; Triquet, Turning to her with a sheet in hand, Sang, off-key. Applause, cries Greet him. She Is forced to curtsy to the singer; The poet, modest though great, First drinks her health And hands her the couplet.
XXXIV
Greetings, congratulations went round: Tatyana thanks everyone. When it came to Eugene's Turn, then the maiden's languid look, Her confusion, weariness Aroused pity in his soul: He bowed to her silently; But somehow the gaze of his eyes Was wondrously tender. Whether He was truly touched, Or he was flirting, playing, Involuntarily, or of good will, But this gaze expressed tenderness: It revived Tanya's heart.
XXXV
Pushed-back chairs clatter; The crowd pours into the drawing room: Thus from a sweet hive A noisy swarm of bees flies to the field. Satisfied with the festive dinner The neighbor snorts before his neighbor; The ladies have settled by the fireplace; The girls whisper in a corner; Green tables are opened: They call the ardent players Of boston and ombre, the old men, And whist, to this day famous, A monotonous family, All sons of greedy boredom.
XXXVI
Already eight rubbers have been played By the heroes of whist; eight times They changed places; And they bring tea. I love To determine the hour by dinner, tea And supper. We know the time In the country without great fuss: The stomach — our reliable breguet; And incidentally I note in parentheses That in my stanzas I speak Just as often of feasts, Of various dishes and corks, As you, divine Homer, You, idol of thirty centuries!
XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX
But they bring tea: the girls decorously Had barely taken their saucers, When suddenly from behind the door in the long hall A bassoon and flute sounded. Gladdened by the thunder of music, Leaving his cup of tea with rum, The Paris of surrounding towns, Petushkov approaches Olga, Lensky to Tatyana; Kharikova, A bride of overripe years, My Tambov poet takes, Buyanov whisked away Pustyakova, And everyone poured into the hall, And the ball shines in all its beauty.
XL
At the beginning of my novel (See the first notebook) I wanted like Albani To describe a Petersburg ball; But, distracted by empty dreaming, I occupied myself with recollection Of ladies' legs familiar to me. Following your narrow traces, O little feet, enough wandering! With the betrayal of my youth It's time for me to grow wiser, To improve in deeds and in style, And this fifth notebook To cleanse of digressions.
XLI
Monotonous and mad, Like the whirlwind of young life, Spins the waltz's noisy whirlwind; Couple flashes after couple. Approaching the minute of vengeance, Onegin, secretly smiling, Approaches Olga. Quickly with her He whirls around the guests, Then seats her on a chair, Starts a conversation about this and that; Two minutes later Again with her he continues the waltz; All are amazed. Lensky himself Does not believe his own eyes.
XLII
The mazurka sounded. In times past, When the thunder of the mazurka roared, In the enormous hall everything trembled, The parquet cracked under the heel, Frames shook and rattled; Now it's different: and we, like ladies, Glide on the lacquered boards. But in cities, in villages The mazurka has still preserved Its original beauties: Jumps, heels, mustaches All the same; they have not been changed By fickle fashion, our tyrant, The malady of the newest Russians.
XLIII. XLIV
Buyanov, my mischievous brother, Led to our hero Tatyana with Olga; promptly Onegin went off with Olga; He leads her, gliding carelessly, And, bending down, whispers to her tenderly Some vulgar madrigal And squeezes her hand — and flared up In her self-satisfied face A brighter blush. My Lensky Saw everything: he flared up, beside himself; In jealous indignation The poet waits for the mazurka's end And invites her to the cotillion.
XLV
But she cannot. Cannot? But what then? Why, Olga already gave her word To Onegin. O God, O God! What does he hear? She could… Is it possible? Barely out of swaddling clothes, A coquette, a flighty child! Already she knows cunning, Already she's learned to be unfaithful! Lensky cannot bear the blow; Cursing women's pranks, He goes out, demands his horse And gallops off. A pair of pistols, Two bullets — nothing more — Will suddenly resolve his fate.